Recusant
by Gloria Underhill
Summary: Apparently, Hero's are everywhere, but in Ferelden Duncan can recruit only one. Anna won't stay still, Darrian would not marry, Tish does as she wills, Lyna's cautious and Sula's prudent. Which will Duncan find? Join our heroes as they struggle to survive the blight, discover hidden strengths and learn to live with harsh realities. Romance and humor are in there somewhere too.
1. Anna

**Anna: "It is a terrible cruelty to keep an elf from the sky."**

Irving, the First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi in Fereldan, leaned against the door frame of one of the classrooms, arms crossed and considered his latest protege as she scribbled furiously at the paper on her desk with a coal pencil.

The candlelight caught in her intricate crimson braid picking up the shine of copper throughout. Her braid wound around her head and down over one shoulder. Smaller, beaded braids cascaded out from under the main braid, falling down her back and framing her ears. Long, prominent and curved like the petals of a daisy. She was eminently, and unusually, proud of her ears.

Anna, as she was called, was an elf, and a bit odd. Noticeably shorter then others her age, she had always been... firmer, rounder, of a more muscular build than her peers. Though she was still light by human standards. Her eyes were blue, rather than the usual green, slightly larger and of a slightly different shape as well.

That wasn't what made her odd though. Anna had been "born into the circle", a term used for the mage children of unmarried mages. This meant she had been taken from her mother at birth and raised in a special creche until her magic abilities showed themselves. Raised by humans, among humans, she didn't seem able, or perhaps to _want_ to connect either to elves or humans. Irving shook his head his shaggy gray hair and bushy gray beard rustled slightly.

"I always imagine you as a silver leafed sylvan," Anna spoke without looking up, "It's less disturbing than the thought of so much hair growing from your face."

Irving barely repressed a sigh. She was in no mood to talk. "I don't suppose I've found you working so hard on researching the properties of your "bell" as we discussed." His voice creaked like an old tree in a high wind. The "bell" he spoke of was a spell unique to Anna. She had discovered that she could, by taping the side of a resonate beaker filled with liquid, cause all impurities to fall to the bottom leaving pure water above. The spell sounded like a bell being struck.

"I'm stuck." She sighed and leaned back, "I've been considering your proposal." She blew delicately on the paper.

"Joining the Gray Wardens?" He asked hopefully. The Wardens had made their inquiries toward finding a new mage to join them in the same month that Anna was to undergo her Harrowing, the final test of the apprentice before she could join the circle officially as a mage. Anna was a flight risk and a bit of an instigator so to Irving the request had seemed Maker sent. But she had yet to agree.

She turned to face him in her chair, her large blue eyes were cool, measuring, "I've studied them a bit, the Gray Wardens, I have too much to… research." She turned back to her drawing and held it up for Irving, "What do you think?"

The charcoal drawing was of a werewolf wearing the tattered armor of a Templar. "I don't believe the trader will purchase this one. I wish you would reconsider."

"The Gray Wardens requested a mage to join them in a few months, I still have time." She put her sketch on the desk again, "I wish to go with the mages to fight with the Kings army. That should give me the idea of the kind of life I would be taking up. And I could be useful."

"I'll consider your request, should you pass your Harrowing." Irving turned to go, but stated over his shoulder, "I would appreciate if you would burn that drawing."

Anna stuck her tongue out at his back, then took a deep breath and blew the coal dust off the paper, leaving no trace behind.

A Short little prologue, The story is long and mystery deepish. review if you're interested in more. I really like this character so I'll be writing this story any way it's just a question of if justifying the time needed to edit and post.


	2. Darrian Tabris

**Darrian Tabris: "The day an elf can legally wield a blade is the day I earn an honest wage."**

Darrian Tabris leaned against the corner of a building while he waited for his collaborator, his hood was down, his dark, mossy green eyes regarded the activity around him and his short burgundy curls blew in the breeze off of the ocean from the docks just a few blocks away.

"Hey Darrian, how's it goin'" Falar, the elven youth Darrian had been waiting for, walked up from the behind him alley holding a helmet that had been colored black, his prized possession, "Heard you got a matchmaker."

"My Father did. I'm not getting married." Darrian glared toward the docks and mumbled, "Not yet, not to some girl I've never met."

"...I don't know, I mean that's how it's done." Falar was making adjustments to his blackened helmet, "I hear you can get a good one with a matchmaker anyway."

Darrian scowled but remained silent. He had tried to convince his father to put off the search for a wife for him until he had a regular job, something to show a potential matches family, a reason to for him stay in Denerim. But his father wouldn't hear waiting any longer, Darrian was good looking, physically sound and bright. But he was getting older, another year and people would wonder what was wrong with him. His father thought that if Darrian would just give up a bit of his pride, and keep his mouth shut, he'd keep a job. The sad part was Darrian did have talents. His mother had taught him more than how to sneak thief, she had taught him how to fight with a sword. But as an elf there was no legal way for him to make money with his skills.

"Come on," Darrian straightening up, shaking off the heavy thoughts of responsibility and memories of his long dead mother, "let's get a drink." he turned and headed toward The Laid Low Tavern to wait for nightfall.

-X-

It had long been dark when two elven youths ran through the streets of the noble quarter of Denerim. Dressed dark, heads covered, they darted from one shadow to the next, expertly avoiding the patrolling city guards. When they reached the estate that was their destination, the hooded one signaled the one in a blackened helmet to stop just shy of the gate.

Darrian Tabris, the hooded one, crouched in the shadows, focusing with all his senses on the mansion before him. The house was dark and silent. The family was supposed to be out of town for the season, but you never knew. The servants had been sent home and they had left a few guards behind. Darrian was counting on the tendency of people to slack off when the boss was away, coupled with the fact that their employer was known to be cheap to keep the guards uninterested. He signaled Falar to follow as he ran up the shadowed path around to the back of the castle-like home. The gardens were broad and relatively bright in the moonlight. The guards would most likely remain on the first floor, hanging out in the kitchen or sleeping in their quarters. The safest route would be to enter through a second story window. Luckily, a smaller garden wall cornered up to a promising entrance.

Darrian smiled at Falar and indicated the window. Falar nodded nervously. Darrian ran up the corner, stepping from one rough stone surface to the next until he swung himself up to kneel on the small wall, then hopped to the open window. Falar followed, with less grace, and Darrian grabbed him to prevent his falling back to the ground. He pulled Falar through the window and paused to listen and let his eyes adjust. The bright moonlight aided their progress, and it was fortunate that the nobles bedrooms were usually on the second floor and at the back of the house. As silently as possible, Darrian opened one promising door. Moonlight filtered in past the drapes revealing a neat but sparse room, likely a guest room then. Still, there would often be something of value stashed away in the vanity. He moved silently over the plush rug grabbing any small shiny thing he came across and stuffing them into a purse on his belt. There wasn't much here.

A sudden commotion drew his attention to the door where Falar stood, a dead guard at his feet. He was looking around the corner, down the hall, "Tabris! Guards!"

Darrian swore under his breath and ran to stand beside Falar, three more humans, not armored but well armed were rounding a corner, ready to fight.

"Out!" Darrian shot toward the window he had entered through, and jumped on the ledge, hopped to the wall, and down on the ground he ran for the shadows at the edge of the garden. Falar was right behind him as he managed to slip out of the gates of the estate just before the off-duty guards burst from the front door to raise the alarm.

Two elven youths ran through the streets of the noble quarter of Denerim. Dressed dark, heads covered, they darted from one corner to the next, desperately seeking ever deeper shadows until they nearly ran into the wall that marked the alienage, the home of the elves within the city's, the gates were long since closed, but they weren't trying to get home yet. With the grace of the long practiced they found the rough join in the wall, clung to the stonework and climbed, squirrel-like, and cat-like, slunk low across the top, following its path to drop in the alleys of another neighborhood, clear of the city guards now scouring the wide streets of the rich part of town. They now had more shadows, closer alleys, narrower streets in which to hide.

Silent in their movements, they continued their hyper-vigilant stealth until they dodged into a run-down old house in an alley off the docks.

Darrian ripped his hood from his head, panting, and glared at his companion, "Killing a guard is a bad idea. It's a terrible idea to kill one in front of more guards," he seethed, and nearly yelled the rest, "And shouting my name is just stupid!"

Falar looked sheepish under his blackened helmet, "I didn't see the others, I had to warn you."

"You-" Darrian snarled, but was interrupted.

"Now boys," Derrick's voice was deep and gravelly, like a man who'd been hung once already, he walked into the small living area of the hovel carrying a candle, he was dark and disheveled, rough complected and unshaven, a human fence and a steadying presence to those skirting the law, "Ya took 'im on Darrian, ya knew how he is."

"He's not the one they'll look for!" Darrian pointed behind him to Falar, who still wore his helmet and stood in silent shame.

"It's done," Derrick put the candle on the table in the middle of the room, "Did ya get anythin'?"

Darrian ran his hand through his hair to calm his irritation, moved to the table and displayed the trinkets he'd managed to grab.

Derrick whistled, "You got right fucked with this one." he looked him in the eye, "Might be 'nough to get ya to 'nother town, if yer careful."

Darrian shook his head, "I can't leave my family-"

"Ya'll do that anyhow, when they catch ya." Derrick took out his purse and put down a couple silvers, "I'm bein' generous, since I may not see ya for a while. Go to Agar, he'll get ya out, take most a what I gave ya, but he won't turn ya in."

Darrian took the money, he didn't see how the payment was especially generous, but he didn't have time to argue and he didn't have the luxury of haggling. "Fine, good, thanks."

"Don't worry about Sula, Darrian, I'll-" Falar pipped up.

Darrian turned on him, pointing aggressively, "You'll stay away from her. I'm serious if I hear-"

"I just-" Falar put his hands up in a placating gesture.

"Just don't." Darrian pushed past Falar on his way out the door, put up his hood and set out alone for Agars Outfitters and the unknown.

-X-

AN; The second character. Not every origin will be represented, just the ones where my choices if I could have made them would have prevented me from meeting Duncan.


	3. Patricia Cousland

**Patricia Cousland: "If it isn't life or death it's a game."**

Elisabeth Patricia Elethea Cousland always got her way. Eventually. The second child and only daughter of the illustrious Bryce and Eleanor Cousland, Teyrn and Teyrna of Highever, second in power only to the King himself, nothing was beyond her reach. She had been born to politics, bred on diplomacy, had bickering nobles for breakfast, gossip for lunch, trade (local, regional, _and_ international) for dinner, and subterfuge for dessert. She was particularly fond of subterfuge.

She had learned early on that getting what she wanted could require moving around without being noticed. Not asking permission was also occasionally necessary, and when all else failed she could rely on her quick mind and silver tongue. Not being noticed was the most impressive of her achievements when one considered that she was not only a child of the Teyrn, and therefore recognized by all within the castle, that her parents were intelligent and not neglectful in the least, but also her physical appearance. She had the same coloration of her namesake, Elethea Cousland. Her hair, fine, straight and currently cut to her jawline, was such a pale blonde that strong light would render it white, to compare her skin to alabaster was no exaggeration, she could put the stone to shame in fact, and her eyes were the peculiar blue of deep ice.

These tactics used against her doting and unsuspecting parents had afforded her many adventures, much knowledge and no small part of treasure before they began to catch on near her fourteenth year. She was in Antiva with her brother, who had been wooing a young wealthy woman, and it was Oriana who first saw through her lines and caught her sneaking out to attend lessons in dueling; a finer form of sword fighting then could be learned in Fereldan.

With her brothers' marriage to Oriana, she gained a much-loved sister and her parents gained another set of eyes. Tish, as the family called her, found her parents more attentive to her movements and her freedom limited somewhat. Though that was also a factor of her age. She was now expected to take an active part in castle life and to take on ever more responsibilities as a noblewoman. Which would now include training in weapons, armor, field maneuvers and wilderness survival. She also had to guard the family name against scandal. This left little time for mischief. Though truth be told, the furthering of her "soldier" skills satisfied her adventurous tendencies well enough, as she had already managed to learn the finer arts of the rogue; locks, traps, skulking, etc.. She had also acquired a respectable network of less than respectable citizens of Denerim and Highever, which her family had yet to discover. Through this network, she had managed to obtain a full set of fine Orlisian armor without her families knowledge. Soft leather in a dark powdery gray; rogues armor, complete with gloves, boots and a deep hood.

She was now ready to set out again. Years of behaving fairly well had set the stage for grand adventures to continue. She had an outfit in which to better hide her identity, and Oriana had a young son to distract... everyone. All she needed was a spark.

That spark came on a visit to Denerim with her father when the presence of the Gray Warden compound within the palace was casually mentioned. The Gray Wardens, great warriors with a noble cause and found throughout Thedas, became interesting to her.

"I am meeting with Bann Teagan at the Knawed Noble, care to join us, pup?" Her father asked during a mid-morning game of chest.

"Hmm," Tish was studying the board carefully, she was sure she was winning, but it did not pay to be complacent, "I think not. A daughter could only stifle the conversation of two such great and lively men. It would be better for me to occupy myself elsewhere." she moved her piece.

Bryce chuckled, "I have never known you to "stifle" conversation. Where is "elsewhere"?" He made his move.

"The market, Wades' Emporium, The Wonders of Thedas. I can lose an entire afternoon in any of those places." Another move.

"Take Shara with you, she'll keep the time."

Tish wrinkled her nose, "And be another noble trailed by another elf? Very well," she sighed dramatically, "but if I am confused for that Bryland girl I shall never forgive you. Check."

"I seriously doubt that's possible." Bryce considered the board, "I'm afraid I'll have to cut the game short today pup."

"Coward." Tish grinned at her father as he rose from his seat.

"Perhaps. You've won anyway." he gave Tish a kiss on the top of her head. "I'll expect you home for dinner."

"Of course."

Having secured the afternoon to herself she returned to her room and began to prepare her armor. When Shara entered the room Tish started talking.

"Shara, it's a good thing you're to come along." she said without looking up, "It turns out I will need you after all. You are to go to my dressmakers, you know the one, tell them I need the blue number ready tonight, I'll pay for the haste, and you'll have to wait for it of course."

"The Tyrn said-" Shara began hesitantly.

"Don't worry about that. The dress will be done long before dinner and if I haven't come for you by then I'll most likely be at Wades. I shan't be hard to find." she handed the servant a purse with the payment for the expediting of the dress and turned her back on her. "Quickly now, or they won't have time."

"You wish me to wait..."

"It would be best. I thought you might like the chance to chat with that young assistant."

"That's not, I-I-I'm not supposed to, we don't-"

"Oh pish," Tish grinned, now she had her, "It's only talking, perhaps he merely needs to be brought to the attention of the matchmaker?"

"Oh!" Shara was blushing as she backed quickly out of the room, "Thank you, my lady, I'll take care of your order right away!"

"Wonderful!" Tish trilled, turning back to her armor.

Within the hour Tish had changed into her dusky armor, including her deep hood, snuck out of her families estate and onto the palace grounds. Only, the palace grounds were more or less open, a series of gates and guards providing ever tighter restrictions. The headquarters of the Gray Wardens were easy to sneak into, as few thought anyone would want to.

"Hold stranger!" an ominous voice called out to her as she walked down a hall in the Headquarters, "What business have you here?"

Tish turned, looked him up and down and saw a man nearing thirty, a man that had the bearing of a guard and the uniform of a warden, "I seek to join the Wardens." she answered simply.

"Put down your hood." he demanded.

Proudly, Tish complied, wearing her most pleasant, nonfamilial smile. One that indicated she had the power to get away with the mischief she was planning.

"Duncan isn't here," The man said dismissively, "he's the one that makes the decisions about recruiting so-"

"Lady Patricia, is that you?" a youngish blondish man wearing a chainmail suit with the warden crest approached from around a corner not far from them.

She recognized him as one of the boys of Highever, though when he had left the castle she was still too young to understand his role there. "Ernest," she gave him a wide welcoming smile as if they had been good friends long separated. She approached him quickly, tucking her hand in his elbow, the other resting on his bicep, ready to be led, "you can not _imagine_ my joy at finding a familiar face among the Wardens. Certainly," she turned to address the other man, "there can be no harm in dear Earnest showing me around the grounds? Even if Duncan isn't here..."

The older man looked from one to the other, and Tish was forced to wait while the cogs ground slowly in his mind, "Aye, I suppose that'd be alright."

" _Wonderful_!" She trilled as she began to drag him away before anyone could think better of it.

"Lad-" Earnest began somewhat urgently.

"Shush," Tish leaned into him to whisper, "I have come to investigate the wardens, so that I may make a case to my father of joining, but if he catches scent of my intentions the game is over and I'll be forced to give it up. For the moment. So none of that "Lady" stuff, I am Miss, if you must, and Tish if you can remember." she waited for his response.

"You'll not join against your fathers' wishes?" Earnest eyed her cautiously.

"Don't be silly." She wouldn't even ask him if she could help it.

"It's not a game my- Miss." he continued down the hall with her attached to his arm, "We're out there dying, in the cold, and wet." he then added, "And sun."

She bristled slightly, "I have a hood. And things have advanced since you knew of me. I have been through field training. I can hunt and fight. I have been cold and wet and injured."

Earnest looked dubious but continued walking. He showed the rooms allocated by the king for the wardens use. Being sure to point out the spareness of them all, the lack of comforts which she was surely used to.

He ended the tour at a walkway overlooking the Wardens training grounds. A hand full of men were down there practicing in full armor, the air rang with clangs, thunks and grunts.

"Most of the Wardens have been sent on to the south, looking into an emergence." he explained as they watched the activities passively, "If I may m- Miss, Why do you want to join the wardens? It doesn't seem... like you."

Tish regarded him for a moment, "I was very young when last you knew me. If know me you did." she looked back to the fighting field, leaning her hands on the railing.

"Do you know what I am?" She didn't wait for him to answer, "I am a second child." She leaned farther down, resting her elbows on the stone surface. "With the birth of my brothers' son, whom I adore, I lost what purpose I had within the family. Other than marrying well, which I can hardly do without leaving the country."

She looked at him in something like humor, "I'm practically a liability." she grinned, then turned back to her observances, "Not that they would say so, or think so, it is only political you understand. But that is _it_ , get married to some lord and settle in. Which would be fine, I suppose, if I could find one I … _liked_. But the Gray Wardens." she said with reverence "Great warriors with noble cause. That is something that means something, something real. And I could be of great use to them, you'll see, besides my martial prowess, and roguish ability, I am also nobility, with all the training and connections that come with it." she had regained her usual lofty air as she finished her speech, and stood straight.

She tilted her head curiously, "Do the Wardens have an association with the Templars?"

Earnest joined her at the railing following her gaze, "No, that's Alistar. We recruited him before he took his vows, haven't had the chance to get him a uniform, or shield. Not better then what he came with anyway."

She arched an eyebrow at him, "The Wardens have money problems?"

"Aren't many of us in Ferelden, Miss." Earnest shrugged, "We haven't got the patrons we used to. We're well equipped, though. Just not with the better official garb. If Alistar wanted a wooden shield with a griffin on it, he'd be golden."

Tish turned back to the field and watched the young man with the Templar shield sparing with a more seasoned warrior.

-X-

Tish arrived at the dressmaker's just as Shara was exiting to search for her. She was in too much of a hurry to get home in time to prepare for dinner to inspect it, and promised instead to return tomorrow if she found anything amiss.

Freshly bathed and dressed in her new dress, Tish joined her father in the dining room. It was only the two of them in Denrum at the moment, leaving a massive expanse of empty table sticking into the formal room.

"There's something so sad about such an empty table." She lamented as she headed for the seat to the right of her fathers. She was about to suggest leftovers in the study when she noticed they weren't alone. There was a handsome nobleman with blue eyes and dark auburn hair, standing next to her father near the fire.

"Not so fast, pup." her father said amused, "I've invited Bann Teagan to dine with us tonight."

"Well," She breathed, wearing a completely genuine, but properly demure, smile, "The table is suddenly quite full and exciting. It is an unexpected pleasure to have you here with us Ban Teagan."

Teagan returned her smile, "The pleasure is mine, none of my family is in town at the moment, leaving my table equally sad."

Tish took the seat to her fathers left, leaving the place of honor, to the Tyrns right, to their guest.

Teagan sat across from her as her father sat at the head of the table.

"I trust you don't mind a friendly rather than formal meal." The Tyrn said as a servant began to bring out a small feast, small but varied and fresh.

Teagan assured him that he did not.

"You seem to have had a successful day pup." her father smiled at her.

"Yes," She returned the smile, "I wanted to ensure that at least one of my dresses was made correctly... Of course they said there would be delays for the others." She pouted prettily, "I doubt that our guest cares to hear about the finer points of my taste in fabrics. How was your day Father? I trust everything went well."

"Of course." her father said, "It is a simple matter after all."

Bann Teagan glanced at her father, "Yes," he added, "I have more or less concluded my business as well."

Tish looked from one to the other, "Still no clue as to what it may be?" she asked encouragingly.

"I must practice keeping secrets from you, pup, or I will lose the ability altogether." Her father grinned at her.

"Hmm," She considered her food, "does this mean we will return to Highever soon? Only I had hoped to see all of my dresses finished in the manner that I ordered them."

"Is this your way of saying you want to remain in town?" The Tyrn arched an eyebrow at her.

"Certainly I am capable." Tish argued lightly, "I can keep an eye on the goings on in town while you are at home and get to know the nobility better."

"The ones that remain in town anyway." Her father sighed, "I will consider it. But Drake will miss you."

Drake was her mabari hound. Mabari were massive war dogs that were known for their fierce loyalty, bravery, and intelligence and choosing their own masters. To be chosen by a mabari was an honor. Currently, Drake was under orders to keep her nephew, Oren, safe. He was of the age to be afraid of the dark and the big dog's snores comforted him.

"I'm sure Drake is busy with the duties I gave him. If I lived my life to please him I would never leave the country and never marry." Tish smiled, that reply was as good as a yes, "Besides Bann Teagan will be in town a bit longer and I may have better luck getting the news out of him than I have with you."

"How did you know?" Teagan looked surprised, "I haven't said anything about remaining."

"Just an impression," Tish grinned at him, "and it turns out that this time I am correct."

"Careful Teagan," Her father joked, "she'll have all your secrets if you're not careful."

"Tell me, Bann Teagan," she decided to ignore her father, "Are all the men in town as agreeable as you? I may have done myself a disservice staying away all this time."

Teagan grinned self-consciously, "I can't speak for what you consider agreeable, I have hardly spoken tonight."

"A situation I will see remedied." Tish continued, "You revealed much while simply listening. And I find a sense of humor quite agreeable."

"You _are_ trying to convince me to let you remain alone aren't you pup?" her father laughed.

"Be sure, father," she turned her attention back to him for the moment, "were you not here I would not behave quite so brazenly." she returned to Teagan, "Rainesfere seems as though it would be a nice place. The weather in Highever is ever subject to the storms of the coast."

The rest of the evening passed in pleasant conversation between the three with Tish dancing lightly on the line separating friendly and flirting, and nothing of importance being discussed.

-X-

AN: Another character down, one or two before we get to the beginning of the game. Why would these exceptional people miss the recruitment? Who else would survive the events of their origin? What do you think? Review and stay tuned.


	4. Lyna Mahariel

**Lyna Mahariel:** **"I** _ **am**_ **curious."**

The Imperial Highway was an ancient, elevated road that spanned many countries. In Fereldan it's main importance was that ran from Denerum to the mage tower to Ostigar, and back circling the Banorn where most of the citizens and farms were and traversing dangerous forest quickly and safely. Unfortunately for travelers, it was so ancient that it was crumbling in many places, forcing them down onto surface roads for miles at a time.

The forests could at any time be home to a Dalish clan, elves who were trying to regain their unique culture away from the humans whom they held responsible for the loss of not only their lands and culture but the diminishing of there magic and their immortality. Relations between humans and the Dalish and city elves were strained and Humans feared the Dalish more than they did bandits.

Lyna leaned over the log she was supporting her self on in order to see down the slope and through the thickets to where a caravan was starting to pack up from its nights rest on the road. It had another few miles before it could return to the Imperial highway. Her mind full of what they could be carrying and where they were going. City's were things of legend to her and as such mysterious and exciting.

"There you are, lethallan ." A voice chided quietly from behind, It was Tamlen, a blonde youth that had been her friend since childhood, "Figures I'd find you here. We're supposed to be hunting not human spotting."

Lyna turned to him her curiosity and enthusiasm undiminished by his rebuke, her bright forest green eyes shining, "It's a caravan!" she whispered in excitement pointing energetically toward the road. Then, just as quickly as she had turned to him, she returned to her gazing posture, her high chestnut ponytail bouncing as she did. Tamlen shook his head but joined her at the log putting both hands on it to brace himself. Down the slope, a ways off through the trees, he could barely make out the shapes of wagons and people milling about.

Lyna leaned closer to him to whisper in his ear, "Do you think there are elves down there?"

"Um," he cleared his throat, "I doubt that." he straightened himself to standing and she did as well, "If there are, I doubt they would want to meet us. It is none of our business anyway." At her disappointed look he almost reached out to take her hand but pulled back, turning the motion into a beckoning gesture instead, "Uh, Come on, let's get on with our hunt and on the way back you can see if they left anything behind."

Several hours later Lyna and Tamlen were on there way back to camp after a successful hunt. As they neared the place where the caravan had stopped Lyna parted from Tamlen to carefully, quietly, pick her way through the trees and brush in the brighter expanse where the road made a clearing and peeked out around one tree, large enough to hide behind.

The wagons were still there, but it was strangely silent. There was no sound save those of the forest, and no movement to be seen. She crept closer, Listening intently for any indication of danger. When it seemed that whatever trouble that had befallen the travelers was no longer present she moved, still cautiously, into the grouping of wagons. The wagons of the trade caravan lined the dirt road on both sides. Between them, strewn across the road the silent remains of the mainly human group lay close together in the center as if surrounded. They had died a violent death by the looks of it and been stripped of valuables.

Tamlen had been searching the perimeter, to ensure the attackers were gone, while Lyna peeked in the wagons themselves.

"It doesn't look like there's anything left to salvage." Tamlen said quietly coming up to her. "We should go. The others should be told about this."

Lyna nodded her agreement, wondering at the scene.

As she turned to leave she saw a shadow under one of the carts move.

"Tamlen!" She cried out excitedly, "Someone's alive!"

He gave her a skeptical look, "What could we do for a Shem? Leave him, let's go. Before the bandits return."

"It could be an elf." Lyna insisted, "We have to check it out."

"If you say so." Tamlen eyed the bodies wearily as she crawled under the cart.

Now that she was near the body she could see his chest rise and fall slightly. "He's alive!" she called out.

"Is he an elf?" she could see Tamlens boots approaching.

"Yeah." Lyna crawled out from under the cart, "Help me pull him out."

Suddenly interested, Tamlen crouched to take the stranger's feet and pulled. The stranger was covered in dirt and with a blood-encrusted wound near his temple, but very much alive. And an elf. "Right, I have the deer, you carry him."

Lyna gave Tamlen a long-suffering look, "I think I'll just try treating his wound first."

She washed the blood away with water from her waterskin and pulled an elf-root potion from her belt. She poured some on the wound and the rest carefully in his mouth, slowly, so he wouldn't choke. Then sat back on her heels and watched. "It isn't that bad really, he should wake up soon."

Tamlen knelt next to her, "He may have other wounds, we may have to leave him and come back with others"

The young man groaned and lifted his hand to his head.

Lyna smiled, "He's waking!"

"Very good lethallan. Now to get him standing." Tamlen addressed the stranger softly, "Come on Brother, wake up. We have to get you to the Keeper for proper healing."

Darrian looked at the two elves from under the hand shading his eyes. Dizzy, nauseated and with a mother of a headache, he could barely make out their forms in the blinding light. He lay his hand on his eyes again, blocking the light out. He wasn't about to move.

"You have to try to get up." the female urged gently. "The bandits might return."

Grudgingly, he accepted the truth of it. Slowly he rolled to his side. Agonizingly, he pushed himself into a seated position and then waited for his vision to clear. When it did he saw his two rescuers kneeling before him. They were not fellow survivors as he had thought. They had bows on their backs and leather armor like he'd never seen. The mans armor appeared to be made of angled strips of leather and the woman's mid-drift was showing.

"Dalish?" he tried to speak but regretted it immediately. A wave of nausea past over him and he nearly threw up.

"That's right," Tamlen nodded, "I'm Tamlen, she's Mahriel. If you want we can take you to our clan, our keeper can heal your wounds."

Darrian gave a slight nod and tried to rise. Tamlen and Lyna grabbed his arms to aid him. The world was quickly righting itself, the dizziness wearing off.

"I gave you a potion." Lyna explained, "It should be at full effect now."

Darrian nodded again, "I'm Darrian, Darrian Tabris."

The three of them walked through the forest in near silence. Tamlen carried the result of their days hunting while Lyna supported Darrian, who was still quite dizzy, and offered him encouraging words on the way.

Later that night with most of the clan was asleep Lyna wondered around the camp, considering the stars that could be seen through the canopy, as well as the health of the city elf that now rested in the Keepers aravel.

"You're up rather late." Tamlen came around the next tree and smiled at her.

Lyna smiled back at him, "So are you... I was just..."

"Worried about the stranger?" he walked up to stand near her, "Fascinated?"

"Curious." she corrected lightly, "It has been a while since one of our city cousins came to live with us."

"...He may not stay." Tamlen said carefully, "You shouldn't get ahead yourself."

"You sound like the Keeper." Lyna teased.

Tamlen grinned shyly, "... It... was a good hunt today."

Lynas' heart jumped at the hesitation in his voice, "Yes." she said uncertain how to respond, "You performed well."

"As did you," he shifted, "You are an excellent tracker. Um, come, sit with me? We can... talk."

He motioned to a log on the boundary of the camp. Lyna nodded shyly and allowed him to lead her there.

She sat gingerly on the log and stole a glance at Tamlen as he joined her. Together they sat, staring out at the forest, and the few stars that could be seen.

"It is a wondrous night." She breathed the crisp air and sighed happily.

"Yes it is." Tamlen agreed, sounding less nervous.

They sat in companionable silence for a time before he spoke again.

"It's rare to see the stars." Tamlen murmured to her.

"Yes, the trees are so close and the sky often cloudy." Lyna responded.

"An encouraging omen, perhaps." his voice held its characteristic humor.

"I believe so." Lyna put her hand on the log between them.

"That's good." he reached out casually and covered her hand with his. Then curled his fingers around it.

It was a bold move, so like Tamlen. Of course, they had been friends since childhood, had gotten their vallaslin close together, and now were partners in the hunt. There were none in camp that knew the other better. Lyna did not object to the gesture.


	5. Obladi Oblada

**Life goes on**

AN: A longish chapter of vignettes about how time passes for two characters if you don't like it, don't worry it's the only chapter like this. But give me some feedback, that's why I bother posting, to entertain and improve. These two origins would basically be their own stories and overshadow the others badly if I didn't treat them like this. And it isn't necessary or good for flow for reasons that will become clear later.

* * *

The morning mists threaded through the forest as Darrian made his way through the elven camp, lending a dreamlike quality to the scene. The Aravels, strange wagons draped with layers of colorful cloth that were both shelter and storage to the Dalish, materialized like ghost ships in a fog and he unconsciously muted his steps in deference to the peaceful, haunting atmosphere.

Lyna was already at the fire, pounding something into a loose paste for the morning meal when he approached. She looked up when he neared the fire, " Tabris! Aneth ara." she smiled up at him, "Have a seat."

Darrian paused awkwardly, "Should I... Can I do something?"

Lyna shook her head, "We have enough now. If you like I'll fetch you early tomorrow."

"Yeah... pounding is something I can do." he sat on a log bench near her. Yesterday he had been ordered to rest and drink tea, and he had watched as the camp had gone about its business. It was all so orderly, everyone knew what they should be doing, what needed done and they had done it. But the order was so foreign, and the chores were different enough to be almost unrecognizable to Darrian. "I don't think I'll make a good Dalish."

Lyna had scooped up her pasty material and deposited it into a large bowl where another Dalish was mixing it with more paste and herbs. "Give it time Tabris, you haven't even been here one full day." she stood up and joined him on the bench, "Is it so different? In the city?"

"Yeah," Darrian looked around, the misty morning had everyone moving slower, except those that were cooking, "Almost no one has tattoos, for one. The clothes. But most of all, the work. Not much of our food comes from us. We don't have much room for gardens or chickens, and we certainly can't gather stuff. All the tools and things. It's so different than the tools and things that we have."

"Tell me," Lyna turned toward him. "what did you do in the city?"

"What? Thievery?" he had told them about his flight from the city.

"What are your talents?" Lyna clarified, "You were very quiet just now, as you approached, if I hadn't seen you coming I wouldn't have known you were there until you sat down!"

"Well, it's so quiet this morning..." Darrian fumbled, "But yeah, I'm stealthy... I guess."

"So, what else did you do? Besides being stealthy." Lyna took an offered flatbread, there were herbs and some sort of meat embedded in it, and she thanked the one handing it out.

"Hmm," Darrian thought as he was handed one as well, repeating Lynas thanks, "I can pick locks, I can disarm traps, and recognize them too, usually. I can even build a few."

"Build what?" Tamlen sat next to Lyna, breakfast in hand.

She turned her smile to Tamlen, "Traps."

He nodded, "That's good, nimble mind, nimble fingers, sharp eyes. He'll be easy to teach to track."

"Just what I was thinking!" Lyna beamed happily, "For now let's get him a bow."

Master Ilen, the clan's craft master, reluctantly gave Darrian a basic Dalish bow and sent him and Tamlen off to practice. Lyna was held behind to fletch arrows for the clan's supplies.

Tamlen led Darrian to the edge of the camp not far away where a target was set up for the young to practice archery.

-X-

Having successfully convinced her father to allow her to remain in town for a while, Tish set about using this time to her best advantage. The wardens were most open to her visits just after their dinner when they were drinking and relaxing before bed. Therefore her days were open for seeing and being seen around town and expanding her circle of acquaintances, as would be expected from a noble in her position. Several young nobles she was already familiar with were in town as well and were eager to show off their connection to the Tyrn so she had enough social engagement to report back to her father to excuse the length of the stay.

She also met occasionally with Ban Teagan at the Knawed Noble. He was by far the more pleasant of her social obligations. He was polite but never groveling as many of the lesser nobles were.

"It's just so tedious," Tish bemoaned, "If they see you, you must chat if they invite you, you must attend or it is a personal slight against them. No thought is given to how my time could be better spent. Like you, for instance, you must be positively catatonic with all the Bans that have been grabbing you away from me. Not that anyone tells us un-landed anything."

"What would you do Lady Elisabeth, given your leave?" Ban Teagan asked before she could continue her press. Teagan was not as practiced as her father at evading her probes but was well able to change the subject when she got too close to something he didn't want to speak of.

Tish considered this quietly, she had many things she could be doing right now, but there was one little romantic shard she kept tucked away in the back of her mind, "There is this ruined little keep not far from the coast, the lands around it have been empty for over 50 years. I have had my eye on how it could be repaired and the land made useful to the nation again." she grinned at the man across from her, "It's a secret plan, an experiment. I'm not sure how it would come out really but..." she sighed, "That is likely all it will ever be, I seem fated elsewhere. Oh, if I could only sequester myself away in that crumbling keep, alone with my studies and intentions."

Teagan smiled at her, "I can't quite imagine you sequestering yourself like that."

"No?" Tish put on a thoughtful face, "Perhaps not. Perhaps not all dreams _should_ be pursued. It will forever remain in the back of my mind though. A bastion of peace when I find myself trapped at some inescapable function being prattled at. Speaking of which, you have been fairly silent on this occasion. I hope you do not find me tiresome."

"Not at all." Teagan answered, "My business in Denerim _has_ been of a quite serious nature, it's been refreshing to speak of idle things."

Tish let out a laugh, "Well, in that case, I shall press you no further, let us speak of nothing heavy or dark for this day."

-X-

Darrian grimaced as the arrow he had loosed swooshed past the target and into the forest. He heard a stifled laugh behind him and turned to face it sheepishly.

Lyna was covering her mouth, her eyes bright with mirth.

"Don't listen to her," Tamlen said from next to him, "it just takes practice. And I thought you were busy with the fletching." he addressed Lyna.

"I finished." Lyna giggled.

"I don't think I'll ever get the hang of this." Darrian held up his bow awkwardly, "Can't I just get a blade and shield? I'm good with those."

"If you think you can hunt with a sword." Tamlen answered doubtfully, then reassured, "It just takes time."

"Let's get him a dar'misaan," Lyna walked up to them quickly, "See what he can do."

Tamlen studied Lyna for a moment, reading her expression, "Alright," he agreed, "It's been a while since I've sparred. Come, Tabris, let's see what Master Ilen has to offer."

Master Ilen, the master craftsman of the clan, was less than enthusiastic about handing a sword to Darrian until he proved he wouldn't hurt himself or someone else accidentally.

"Here, have a wood dar'misaan, we use them to train the young." He addressed Darrian while handing him a curved sword with a dull wooden blade and a plain wooden shield. "They won't cut you, but be careful, you can still get hurt."

"Yeah, thanks." Darrian took the sword as respectfully as he could, "I do know how to handle a blade though."

"We shall see." Master Ilen answered dourly.

Darrian followed Tamlen to an open area at the edge of the camp. Tamlen brought his own shield embellished with a leaf motif and a Dalish sword, curved and barbed near the hilt, looking like a long talon, or tooth.

Darrian tested his grip on the shield, it was solid and not too bulky. He gave the wooden sword a few trial swings. It was as well made and well balanced as you could hope to have from used wooden training sword, but it fit his hand and didn't overextend his reach the way the human blades he'd used could. Tamlen showed him how he held and swung the sword, the motions natural and easy to fit his fighting style. And then they sparred.

Darrian had been trained to be a thief, but his true talent was with the sword and shield. Tamlen was the best warrior the clan had, but much like Darrian had to sneak for a living, he had to hunt. This was the first time in a long time either had a friendly match in their preferred field.

Even with Darrian's clumsy and unfamiliar weapons he managed to block and counter, to use Tamlens shield against him. Tamlen knocking Darrian down, Darrian regaining his footing and unsettling Tamlen. Back and forth the young men went. First one in the advantage then the other, gathering a crowd to watch the two skilled boys at play, until the sun signaled time for the evening meal.

-X-

Tish managed to arrange her time in Denerim so that she could spend many evenings drinking and conversing with the Wardens at the palace. She would drift in like a shadow just after dinner and see how long it took for them to notice her.

"- Tish!" poor Earnest would always jump from his seat when he noticed her, "What are- I mean... again?"

"I came to see if the commander had returned," she responded innocently, she knew full well that he wasn't expected for weeks if at all. "I'm not causing any harm by being here am I?"

The wardens who were not Earnest agreed that her presence was harmless and this time she took a seat on the bench a bit down from Earnest, next to the young man with the Templar shield she had watched earlier.

"Greetings, I'm Tish," she held out her hand to him, "I saw you fighting the other day."

"Oh," he took her hand awkwardly, looking uncertain of what to do with a woman's hand, "Alistair, I hope I didn't embarrass myself." he added with a self-conscious laugh.

"I would have hardly mentioned it if you had," Tish reassured, "Unless it was to point and laugh, which I never do."

"That's a relief." he gave a slight chuckle.

"You'd never see me laugh." she added a mischievous glint in her eye.

"That's less..." He took in her smiling expression with some confusion, "Now I don't know what to think."

"Wonderful." she trilled, a wide smile forming on her face.

Earnest frowned.

She leaned a bit closer to Alistair, "Do you know why I'm here talking to you?"

"I have the pitcher of Ale?" Alistair ventured helpfully, indicating a pitcher sitting in the middle of the table.

"Nnno, but pour me some will you?" She grabbed a clean mug from the center of the table. Evidently, it had been set with the idea of more people in attendance than showed up. "No, I am simply _fascinated_ by you Alistair What would make one go from being a Templar to being a Grey Warden? Being a Templar seems to be a more pleasant commission, so to speak."

"I'm sure it does, to some." Alistair said somberly, "Then again some Templars spend years out in the wilderness hunting wild mages. That doesn't seem too pleasant."

"It didn't agree with you then?"

"No it didn't." Alistair frowned at his mead, "I wasn't really a Templar anyway. Duncan recruited me before I took my vows."

"It sounds as if you had a good time at the monastery."

"I hated it, the training has been useful though." Alistair ended on a more uplifted tone and took a drink, "You don't really want to know about my being a Templar, do you? It's really quite boring."

"Knowledge is everything Alistair," Tish said in a low voice, "It may even be why you're here now, instead of hunting apostates in the wilds." She scooted a bit closer to him and kept her voice down, "Why don't you tell me about being a Grey Warden instead?"

"I don't have much to say, I haven't really done much yet, outside actually joining I mean."

"Surely you've fought dark spawn?" Tish whispered conspiratorially, her eyes sparkling in the firelight, "I've heard that Grey Wardens are the best at fighting dark spawn but no one knows why, and they won't share."

"It's... experience, I guess." Alistair didn't look at her, "I only joined recently, you should ask the others."

Tish pouted, and returned to her drink, "I have, I thought you might indulge me more."

"Oh I get it," Alistair grinned as if he had caught her at something, "you think that just because you're a beautiful woman you can get me to give up trade secrets. Well no luck, I'm on to you now."

"One would think that I could at least get a little more out of a man who was raised in a monastery. Though I would point out..." Tish leaned in again, "I haven't _really_ been trying."

"Oh?" Alistair looked down at her nervously.

"I had no doubt that you would see through any attempts to seduce information out of you." She looked up through her translucent lashes and smiled shyly, "You must have any number of women at your heel every time you set foot in public."

"Not really," Alistair said carefully, then added dismissively, "I don't think they notice me, to be honest."

"I'm sure you just don't notice them," she looked earnestly into his eyes, "they must be terribly intimidated by you. You're very handsome and so tall and move with such elegance, they must think they stand no chance to be seen by you. Tell me, Alistair, Do you?"

"Do I what?" Alistair asked softly.

"See me?" She on leaned into him a bit and looked up into his eyes coyly.

"I, um well, you're right here it'd be hard not to." Alistair said nervously.

"That's enough Miss." Earnest warned.

Tish scooted back to her original position on the bench with a smug smile, "It's just a bit of fun."

"Alistair might not agree." Earnest argued across the man in question, "He's not used to that sort of thing and what would-... you're parents think."

"I imagine they would react much the way you did." Tish tilted her head in proud dismissal.

"Right well if you're done laughing at me, I'll-" Alistair started to stand but Tish grabbed his arm.

"Don't go," she pleaded honestly, "Not like that, I was _having_ fun not making fun. I really do find you interesting. And I can see that the Wardens secrets are truly safe with you."

Alistair sat down again reluctantly, still suspicious.

"I can't believe the way you behaved Miss." Earnest growled at her.

"It's just a bit of flirting Earnest, fear not as that is a game I never lose." she brushed his concerns off.

"Game?" Alistair and Earnest spoke at the same time.

"Everything's a game, if it isn't life or death it's a game." She waved her hand in the air dismissively, "Flirting even more so, my sister once told me "Flirting is a game where the man wins if he beds you and you win if he marries you."

"Your _sister_ said that." Earnest looked dubious.

Tish nodded demurely, "I fully believe she was finding a way to use my nature to preserve my chastity." she drank from her mug.

"You weren't like this when you talked to the others. Why now?" Alistair, blushing, was trying to change the subject in any direction but the current one.

"I believe I've said." Tish arched her eyebrow at him then smiled slyly, "Have you been watching me with the others?"

"No, well, maybe." He relented, "There's not much else to look at."

"How wonderful," she laughed, "I'm more interesting than staring at a wall."

"Are you sure you want to join?" Alistair asked after a few minutes, "You just don't seem to be the type to enjoy roughing it out in the wilderness."

"Oh? Perhaps I don't seem like that. Appearances can be deceiving though." Tish ran her finger along the top of her mug, "As it so happens, my father is in the army, so is my brother... I was raised up to join as well, I'm only being kept out of it now because, apparently, someone must watch that the house doesn't burn down while the men are away."

"You fight with daggers." Alistair noted the blades on her back.

"Twin daggers, or swords, I'm a duelist. Or nearly anyway." Tish stated proudly, "I haven't anyone to try my skills on for a while now. I'm quite good against all styles however."

"And so humble." He grinned at her.

"I may not always win, Alistair, but I always get my way," Tish grinned back, "you had best remember that in the future."

Alistair considered her for a moment, "You... seem like a very dangerous woman, Tish."

"Perhaps I am," She agreed thoughtfully, "I've never really been tested before." She stood and announced, "It has been a wonderful evening but I'm afraid I must be going. Good night Earnest. And Alistair," she patted him on the back, "You sell your self short, you are indeed handsome, moreover, you are cute."

"Cute?" Alistair practically keened.

"Quite to my surprise, I am beginning to realize," She leaned over his shoulder to whisper in his ear, "I quite like... cute." she then gave him a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek and, before anyone could react, disappeared through the door.

-X-

Darrian grinned triumphantly as his arrow struck the target, sticking out of the side at an odd angle and sagging, but still remaining in the target.

"You see, You're improving." Lyna smiled at him.

"Yeah, another two weeks and I might get two inches closer to the center." Darrian readied another arrow.

Lyna watched as this arrow stuck in the ground just past the target, "You'll get there, just be patient. Your work for Master Ilen is going well."

"Maybe... " Darrian retrieved the arrows, ready to be finished with practice for a while, "Yeah, nothing wrong with my arrows anyway. Did I ever tell you about the time me and my sister snuck into the Wonders of Thedas?"

Lyna shook her head, "Not yet."

"It's this store, full of books and all kinds of stuff." He said, "Elves don't go in there, they don't like gawkers and everything's real expensive. Anyway, Mom got it in her head there was something in there that would reveal magic in someone's blood. You know, tell if they were a mage. Anyway, I was supposed to go alone but wanted the backup so I dragged Sula along with me. My sister, Sula. She was real young but she knew how to hide and had sharp eyes..."

-X-

Alistair breathed in the crisp night air of the city and leaned drunkenly on the stone balcony. The city didn't smell good, but it was less stuffy than inside and it could be a while before he smelled the cities particular scent again.

"Good evening Alistair" Tish's presence was announced by her playful greeting. She was sitting, almost perched on the stone railing near him, one leg draped off the dangerous side the other crossing the stone as she turned toward him.

"Oh... It's you." Alistair stated blearily, "What are you doing out here?"

"The hall seemed a little more lively than prudent tonight." she admitted.

"What's so prudent about being out here?" he gestured to the city, "Alone in the city, at night."

"And vulnerable?" Tish tilted her head curiously, "Have you come to ravish me Alistair?"

"What? Of course not, I-I would never-"

"I know how to handle myself." she dismissed through his stuttering denials. Her demeanor was more subdued than he was used to seeing. he didn't know she was thinking about dark rumors she had heard, and how to get to the truth.

After a moment he broke the silence, "You know, the guys have been giving me a hard time about you."

"Who? Earnest?"

"All of them," he expounded waving his hand in an encompassing gesture, "they've been callin' me "lady killer"."

"How awful." Tish didn't sound apologetic.

"What about you? Do you always go around kissing men like that?"

"The... kiss on the cheek?" Tish asked incredulously, "you know, that is a proper greeting in some places. And no, I do not. That was a first for me."

"Truly?" Alistair asked uncertainly.

"Truly." Tish paused, then continued, "Verbal flirtation is one thing physical contact is another entirely. _You_ simply inspire me to mischief Alistair"

"Do I?"

"Truly, you are a dangerous man." Tish admitted.

"A dangerous man... " Alistair savored the phrase, "I've never been called a dangerous man before." After a moment he frowned, "Would you get off the edge, it's making me nervous."

" _I_ haven't been drinking." Tish responded, then teased, "Given your current state I think I should I should stay up here."

"I'm not going to ravish you Tish." He said flatly.

"What?" she responded sounding surprised and just a touch disappointed, "Not ever?"

"We- ah, I don't-" Alistair flustered, blushing, standing straight as he searched for a response.

"I'm not sure whether to take that as reassurance or a challenge." she pondered to the night.

"Reassurance," Alistair settled on quickly, "defiantly reassurance."

"I've heard rumors about the dark spawn emergence in the south," Tish apparently opted for the direct approach, "apparently the King has put out a general alert. He's calling for troops."

"Yeah, it sounds serious doesn't it?"

"Something the Gray wardens can't deal with on their own? I should say so. Will the Commander be returning to Denerim?"

Alistair shook his head, "He's out recruiting somewhere. We got a message to wait for him in Ostagar with the Kings-"

"There you are, Alistair!" A giant of a man joined him on the balcony, "Was wondering where you got to, thought you spotted your lady... talking to shadows?"

Alistair looked at the place Tish had been sitting, "Uh, she..."

"Come one, enough spoutin' secrets to the wind, have another drink!" the man lead him back inside.

* * *

AN: Again, let me know what you think.


	6. The Cave

**The Cave, Day One**

Darrian had been sent into the forest with Tamlen and Lyna to practice his tracking skills and was currently puzzling the passing of an animal. In theory, if he reached the end of the trail with all the relevant information his tutors would appear. Suddenly his attention was grabbed by the sounds of screaming and the clumsy rush of harried movement through the forest. This area was full of large boulders, ridges, and crevasses, it was easy to fall into them and difficult to get out again. Whoever it was was running blind following the easy path that would lead directly to the Dalish camp.

"Tamlen, Lyna, Humans!" he called out as he ran to head them off.

By the time he reached the cut-off point, Tamlen was already there, bow at the ready, three young human men cowering before the single Dalish hunter.

"No?" Tamlen responded to a comment Darrian had missed, "We will see about that, won't we?"

Darrian drew his sword, "What are you doing here?"

The humans were hardly older than the elves, weaponless and wearing rough common clothes. The oldest of the humans spoke soothingly, a little too smooth for Darrian "We didn't mean any harm, we just found a cave."

The youngest jumped on the opportunity, sputtering out his answer, "Yes, a cave! With ruins like I've never seen! We thought there might be, uh..." he trailed off.

"Treasure." Tamlen finished the thought for him, "So you're more akin to thieves than bandits." he scoffed.

Lyna joined them now, her eyes hard, her bow at the ready.

"If there's treasure you'd have proof." Darrian challenged.

"Here..." the young one pulled a stone from his clothes, "we found this just inside the entrance."

Tamlen took the stone and examined it, "This stone has carvings... Is this elvish?" he started to sound excited, " _Written_ elvish?"

"There's more in the ruins!" the young one offered helpfully, "We didn't get very far in though..."

"Why not?" Darrian asked while Tamlen and Lyna looked over the stone, "Why _were_ you running like that?"

The young man's eyes grew wide again, remembered fear greater than what the Dalish before him inspired, "There was a demon!" he almost breathed, "It was huge, with black eyes! Thank the Maker we were able to out-run it!"

Tamlen scoffed, "A demon?" he drew his bow on the men again, "Where is this cave?"

"Just off to the west, I think." the speaker looked to the others for back-up, "There's a cave in the rock face, and a huge hole just inside."

"Let them go Tamlen." Lyna said dismissively, looking at the stone.

"We won't be here much longer anyway." Darrian added with a scowl.

Tamlen glanced at Darrian, "Run along then, shems... and don't come back until we Dalish have moved on."

The men turned tail and ran as fast as they could away from them before they changed their minds.

"Should we scout out this cave?" Lyna spoke as Tamlen and Darrian put their weapons away.

"I think we should. These carvings make me curious." Tamlen answered her.

"Yeah," Darrian grinned, then paused, "What about that demon?"

Tamlen laughed, "Skittish shems say it's a demon and you believe them? They probably woke up a bear."

"We have heard nothing of a demon in these woods." Lyna responded, "I never heard of ruins either though, we'll be cautious, but Tamlen is probably right."

"A bear is nothing to sneeze at either." Darrian pointed out grimly as the group moved to the west, following the panicked trail the humans left.

Lyna, the superior tracker, lead the way, reading the forest signs for bear and human passage. As Darrian had thought the trail led them to a narrowish path, on one side steep drop on the other a near cliff face rising high above them.

Tamlen spoke to Darrian quietly as they followed, "What did you mean telling the shems we were moving on?"

"I was bluffing," Darrian answered in a whisper, "if they think we're moving on their less likely to look for us. And whats with... her, huh? It took her a pretty while to join us."

"I don't- " Tamlen flustered, "You were the one to say I should... encourage her, to show her she has something to stay for."

"Yeah, but," Darrian looked at the woman that was the subject of their conversation. She was bent over studying the carcass of a halla. "Be careful alright, your going to get into trouble. More trouble." he added adamantly.

"That was your fault as well." Tamlen said darkly.

"Those shems were hunting Halla." Lyna announced angerly, "Look, they slit it's throat and took the horns."

The boys joined her at the corpse. The forest path had rejoined the rest of the forest, leaving the steep areas behind. The Halla's body was in a small sheltered divot in the rough forest floor.

"Looks like they were just going to leave the rest of it too." Tamlen added.

"I doubt that." Darrian though aloud, "I mean, it's food, right? They probably got distracted."

"If it was a bear it didn't come this far." Lyna observed, then turned on her friends, "What was all that about anyway?"

"We were just..." Tamlen started.

"Being quiet for you." Darrian finished.

Lyna considered her friends. The three of them had been close since shortly after Darrian's arrival. Though in recent weeks their behaviors had changed. She couldn't decide if the men were closer or more antagonistic and it seemed to change every day. Darrian had gotten more shifty and a bit more distant from her while Tamlen made even greater effort to be near her. But with all they shared, it seemed he was hiding something from her. Did they know that the Keeper had counseled her? The Keeper thought it likely Darrian would return to the city, and that Lyna would be tempted to go with him when he did. She had been ordered to consider her future carefully.

"...They came from that direction." she pointed into the entrance of a crevasse. The floor was angled steeply down and the walls were too close for the three to walk side by side.

"Well, let's see what those shems were so afraid of." Tamlen took the lead, Darrian ran up to join him leaving Lyna to walk behind them.

The crevasse curved around a bit, descending further away from the light above. The dark entrance of a cave appeared at the end.

"This must be the cave." Tamlen said almost hesitantly, "I don't recall seeing this before, do you?" he asked Lyna.

"No, it's... odd." She answered. She pointed at the ground."Only the humans came this way, for a while anyway."

"Then there shouldn't be any problem," Tamlen tried to sound confident, but the atmosphere was fighting him. He put his bow up and readied his sword, "They probably just got spooked."

"Could be spiders." Darrian looked into the cave entrance.

"We can handle spiders, Darrian." Lyna sounded more confident than either of them.

They entered the cave, it's floor steep and stony. Deep in the back of the cave, a stone door lay open.

"It... looks like the shem was telling the truth." Tamlen breathed as they entered, "But these ruins look more human than elven."

Darrian had been right about the spiders as the group was jumped by two giant spiders just inside the door. With good armor and healthy luck, spiders aren't difficult to dispatch. And they weren't even harmed by the fight.

"There will be more of them." Lyna warned.

They continued through another door, here the stonework became more apparent, but large portions lay crumpled in large piles on the floor. In places the walls had failed allowing roots and dirt to add to the destruction. The hall before them stretched to the left and right before turning corners. At the corners statues held magical fire adding just enough light for their elven eyes to maneuver the debris.

"Well," Darrian broke the silence, "Good adventurers go left, or so I'm told." and he strode cautiously down the left hall and around the corner. The others followed. The hall ended in at a door. Darrian motioned the others to stand back, put his hand against the door and inched it open. The door swung open on its own and the chitter of giant spiders echoed in the large room. Tamlen and Lyna readied their weapons as the spiders dropped from the ceiling.

"Trap!" Darrian announced, "Let them come to us."

The spiders did come, and where dispatched by the skilled hunters and warrior.

Darrian turned back to the trapped tile just inside the door.

"Is it still active?" Tamlen asked.

"Yeah, one sec." Darrian found the trigger and disarmed it easily, "I wonder why they needed to trap this place, it doesn't look like anyone's been here for a while."

"Aren't ruins usually full of traps?" Lyna asked.

None of them were very experienced with ruins. Darrian was more familiar with buildings though there was no furniture here to give the place purpose or to ransack, only spider webs. Whoever left took everything. Or looters had since then.

"It doesn't look like anything has been left here." he scuffed his foot in the thick dust.

"There may be something further in, something too big to move." Tamlen insisted.

The group moved forward finding only more traps and more spiders as they wound their way deeper in. Suddenly Tamlen stopped in front of a worn and damaged statue

"I can't believe this." he said excited again, "You recognize this statue, don't you?"

"Um, Oh! He's the... the friend of the dead right?" Lyna offered.

"That's ominous." Darrian frowned at the statue.

"He led the dead safely to their final rest." Lyna explained, "He wasn't an evil god."

Tamlen added, "It doesn't seem right that a place so... wrong... would be his. This looks like human architecture... with a statue of our people. Can these ruins date back to the time of Arlathan?"

"Did anyone else notice the dead guys?" Darrian wasn't comforted.

A handful of ancient warrior corpses lay about the vicinity of the statue.

"I don't think They'll be a problem." Lyna glanced around.

Opposite the statue was a large highly decorated door, seemingly untouched by time.

"If there is something here, it will be there." Tamlen said gravely. The atmosphere had become increasingly frightening and with the lack of real treasure, their spirits were not what they had been. The three stepped forward and the snick and slight unsteadiness of a tripped tile trap caused them to freeze. A green mist rose from the floor making them sick and dizzy.

"Off the trap!" Darrian called out jumping to a wall to avoid the area.

The mist continued to rise for a while after they had left the trap and before it stopped a sick gurgling sound came from the hall behind them. The desiccated corpses had risen and were limping quickly towards them weapons ready and fade lights glowing where their eyes once were.

"The dead!" Lyna coughed readying an arrow and backing away for a better aim.

Tamlen joined Darrian at the front line sword in hand.

The undead were a more difficult fight but easy to block and fool. Thankfully there were only a few to deal with.

"The undead," Lyna gasped, once the fight was over and the illness caused by the trap had passed, "the traps too. I don't think whatever is here wants to be found."

"Nonsense," Tamlen puffed breathless, "It's just well protected."

"The best haul is the best guarded." Darrian agreed.

"What about the demon?" Lyna asked annoyed and worried, "we haven't seen anything that matches the humans' description."

"It was probably the spiders." Tamlen said dismissively, but touched her hand comfortingly, "they never got this far in, one more room, vhenan. We already tripped the trap we might as well have a look."

Lyna looked into his eyes, "I have a bad feeling about this ma lath."

"It will be fine. I don't like this place either." Tamlen touched his forehead to hers before turning again to the door.

Darrian did his best to ignore the two and study the door. "It's not trapped." he said when Tamlen stepped beside him.

"Well, what are we waiting for, let's see what all this was protecting."

Darrian opened the door. A fierce otherworldly scream-roar erupted from across the room as a creature that once may have been a large bear reared up and charged towards them. Forcing them back into the hall. The thing had thick bony spikes irrupting from its back and face and patchy fur failing to cover raw seeping skin. Its eyes burned with madness.

Darrian instinctively bashed it with his shield across the face when it neared him and slashed at it with his sword when it appeared to be stunned. Tamlen joined him stabbing at the shoulder between its wicked spikes and fighting to keep a hold on his sword when the beast moved again to face Darrian. Lyna moved to one side to get a better shot and let loose her arrows into its side.

Darrian dodged a giant paw swipe and shoved his shield in its face, plunging his sword into its neck. Tamlen joined him at its head and stabbed the neck from above. The thing shook, swayed and collapsed in the hall nearly blocking the door.

"What is that thing!" Darrian cried out.

"That is a demon!" Lyna cried in response.

Tamlen looked to them, "... Perhaps that is what those shems saw. It's dead now anyway. Is the room clear Tabris?"

"Right." Darrian worked his way around the foul bear thing checking for traps. "The room is clear." he looked up, before him in the middle of the room, lit but some unseen source a colossal mirror was held up on both sides by statues of robed men. It stood untouched by time or dust, an unnatural presence at the heart of the ruins.

The three approached cautiously stopping a few feet away.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Tamlen said in awe, "I wonder what the writing says."

"Don't touch the glass?" Darrian quipped.

Tamlen chuckled, "Not that we'd leave a fingerprint on it... see how clean it is? Not a single smudge or crack."

"Yes, and I think we found our treasure." Lyna interrupted urgently, backing towards the door, "we have enough to take to the Keeper and we can't haul it back with us so..."

"We're just looking at it." Darrian dismissed.

"It doesn't reflect," Lyna continued rubbing her stomach nervously, "it's perfect and it doesn't reflect. We should leave and get the Keeper."

"Maybe this isn't-" Tamlen interrupted his own musings "hey, did you see that?"

"What?" Darrian asked.

"I think something moved inside the mirror." He explained stepping closer.

"Get away from it please." Lyna begged the men. She moved closer to the door, stepping around the bear. A panic sparked in her gut by the unnatural atmosphere in the ruin and matured by the attacks of undead and the demonic creature had blossomed at the sight of the mirror.

"Don't you see it? There it is again!" Tamlen said with growing excitement and awe, "Can you feel that, I think it knows we're here. I just need to take a closer look..."

"Where?" Darrian asked as the two moved closer to the mirror searching its surface for something.

"Please Tamlen, come with me. Darrian listen to me." Lyna cried from the other side of the door. She placed herself against in a corner, between the corpse of the bear thing and the wall, her head in her hands.

"It's... showing me places." Tamlen said breathlessly, "I can see... some kind of city... underground?" he touched the mirror and it reacted to his touch with ripples across its surface, "And... there's a great blackness," now with growing fear to terror, "It... it saw me! Help! I can't look away!"

Darrian grabbed for Tamlens arm to break the connection when a great force of light and power exploded from the mirror, he was tossed in a sea of light and lost consciousness.

XX

AN: the first of very few moments directly from the game. Tell me what you think, is it good? bad? promising? do you want to hear from one character, hate another? I could use some kind of feedback


	7. A Plan

**A Plan is Hatched**

AN: Anna was a difficult one to post because her differences are a big motivator for her character at this point just know that there is a reason.

-X-

The circle tower in Fereldan was circular in construction, as well as tall. Looking like a giant needle sticking out of a small island in the northern end of Lake Calenhad. The layout of each floor was similar, but strangely not identical. There was a large central, circular room, of little practical use, which housed the stairs up to the next level. Exiting this room, by one of several doors, you would enter a continuous hallway which circled the central room. The only interruption in the wall shared with the inner room were the doors to that room and the stairs down to the floor below, seemingly random in placement. The outside wall of the hall was not continuous, sometimes it was open into large areas supported by pillars, sometimes closed into proper rooms with proper doors, of seemingly random size and purpose. The confusing layout must have had some strategic purpose that was not apparent to Anna.

Anna, now in the shimmering yellow robes of a harrowed mage, leaned back against the stone wall of the hallway just outside of the First Enchanters study, straining to hear the conversation going on within. She pressed her palms flat against the cool surface of the wall, her head inclined toward the open door as she concentrated on the distant words.

"I am not letting that child loose on a battlefield!" Knight-Commander Greagoir barked, "She feels toward humans only slightly kinder than a Dalish!"

"Now Greagoir," Irving creaked placating, "She has never caused harm to any in the tower. Not even when she was a child did her power get away from her."

"As long as we can not guarantee the safety of the people around a mage they cannot be allowed away from the tower, you know that Irving." Greagoir intoned, frustration tinting his voice.

"Anna-"

A mans' voice whispering her name from the hall, startled her so badly she had to bite down on a Mind Blast before it escaped. She rubbed her temples to lessen the tension of a called back spell.

"A bit jumpy, are we?" It was Cullen, a young Templar considered quite handsome, with short blonde hair and brown eyes. "Eavesdroppers usually are." he added, somewhat amused.

"Oh, Cullen." she sighed as she stepped away from the wall and glanced at him under her hands still rubbing the ache away "That really hurts you know, you couldn't have given some warning?"

"I'm wearing full plate and the floors are stone." he sounded very amused now, "You must have been very distracted."

She lowered her hands, dropping them into one of her particular poses; arms crossed lightly, hands on her forearms facing forward, tips of her fingers barely curving at her elbows. She turned her wide-eyed gaze on the Templar, and he was caught in it.

Her eyes dominated her small face not only in their impressive size and graceful shape but in the intensity of her gaze. To be seen by Anna was to be taken in, measured up, experienced in some way more visceral then one would think of a mage. And the blue! A color that ranged from the cold glow of lyrium to a velvety azure. Deep and beguiling, one could find eternity in those eyes. If one was so inclined. Cullen was often so inclined.

"I suppose I was." She answered him quietly, "They _are_ arguing about me though if it's any excuse."

"Um, I, ah, suppose it's... understandable." Cullen stammered. He had managed to accustom himself to being near her, mostly, but her eyes could still affect his mind and heart like a schoolboys' first crush. He cleared his throat, "Under the circumstances, I suppose, I could overlook it."

"Thank you, Cullen." She smiled weakly at him before she turned and started to walk down the hall away from the First Enchanters office. Cullen turned with her. Whether leading or following, Anna wasn't sure, so she decided to give him a further explanation, "I requested to go to Ostagar to fight with the Kings army. It doesn't look like Greagoir will let me go."

"You were an apprentice just yesterday," Cullen said after a moment. "How much could you know about fighting with an army?"

Anna lifted her small chin defiantly, "I can fight." she turned her head to look at Cullen, "You don't think... Am I...?" Cullen turned his face toward her, curious and encouraging, he had always been friendly toward her. She doubted he could see her as 'unfriendly', it wasn't in his nature, "never mind. I heard you were at my harrowing. Is that true?"

"Th-they picked me as the templar to strike the killing blow if... if you became an abomination." He stuttered and frowned, unhappy with the recollection. "It's -"

"Good." Anna said with great authority bringing a halt to his stammering explanation, "I'm glad."

"You're... glad?" he repeated confused.

"I trust you Cullen." Anna explained, "You're a man of conviction and dedication. I admire that, I trust that."

"I would have taken no pleasure in it." Cullen assured her.

"If I had fallen, you would have avenged me." She gave him a small smile but found him looking troubled. She changed the subject, "Why are the doors closed today? I am eager to be in the garden. It is a terrible cruelty to keep an elf from the sky." she ended with a touch of affectation to lighten the mood.

Cullen chuckled, recognizing the tone for what it was, "Something to do with grounds keeping I think. "There are no scheduled activities outside today." he quoted in an officious voice, "I'm surprised you don't put in for a bit of garden of your own, as much as you enjoy them."

"I have too much work to do, tending a garden would..." Anna looked toward Cullen again, untying her arms so she could illustrate her point, suddenly she was warm and open, " _We_ are a garden, you know." Cullen was caught in her gaze again. "Our spirit, our mind, our body, all need tending to. Constant weeding, forming and nourishing. We are always changing, always blooming, we are aided by _natures_ graces; the caress of rain, the warm kissing sun, a stiff breeze to try our strength." She turned again to face the hall before her and her shoulders sagged and she mumbled, "This place leaves so much untended to."

Under the cool academic veneer, bordering on a noble air, she seemed to him to be less a garden than a storm. A roiling mass of fiery passions dancing under the strict and powerful choreography of a mages mind, the heart of an artist. He knew he was one of a very few people that were honored with an occasional glimpse of her hidden nature. "Hmmm." was the only response he could give.

Shortly though he changed direction, heading for the rooms on the outside of the curving tower hall, compelling her to do the same. Lost in thought she almost complied, then she saw the room he would have her enter.

"Cullen, no." She stopped, taking a step back. "I will not go in there."

Cullen looked contrite, "I-I know you have some-"

"Cullen..." Anna said darkly.

"If only you could get past your experiences in the creche," her blue eyes flashed lyrium cold, but he pressed ahead quickly, "I-I know the Maker could help you tend those places you feel... neglected."

"The Sisters, they..." she hesitated before breaking eye contact, embarrassed at the admission, "planted a seed of darkness in my heart that I cannot forgive, and I cannot forgive _that_. I'm sorry Cullen, excuse me."

She walked around the Templar and continued toward the library. Cullen watched her go thoughtfully, and a bit sadly before he continued into the Chantry.

Anna was stopped then by the voice of a human apprentice.

"Cullen's in love with you." the blonde taunted.

She turned to the woman, "What?"

The apprentice closed the distance between them slowly, like a cat, "He's in love with you. What do you expect, with the way you wiggle." she sneered "It's shameful."

Anna lifted one eyebrow, "I move as the Maker made me." she answered as she turned away, "Take up your grievances with him." The 'humph' she heard as she walked away should not have given her as much satisfaction as it did. But it did.

The apprentice was right of course, Anna did move with a bit more of a wiggle simply due to her hips slight extra girth. The extra movement apparent perhaps because the women of Fereldan, including the humans, tended to be of the narrow hipped variety. Perhaps her mother was from a faraway Circle, where the elves looked more like her. Perhaps she would be able to find them... one day.

Anna entered the library and made her way casually to the section containing the works on demonology. The study of demons had never pulled her, it had always seemed so boring like she'd heard it all before.

However, her experience with the harrowing had given her something to think on. She had seen a spirit while in the fade for her final test. Not Mouse, the test of pride and intelligence, not Sloth who tested her wits, Rage, whom she battled, or even Valor. Something, someone else had been there, looking down on her progress in smug satisfaction. She had an uneasy feeling that allowing herself to take place in the ritual, as _designed_ , had done more than given her a terrible lyrium headache, (she was particularly sensitive to the material). She felt that it may have revealed her to _something._ Something from which she felt she would have preferred to remain hidden.

She found herself unwilling to attack the subject head-on though. She didn't want to seem too eager on the subject. So She drifted a bit around the tables looking at the books that had been abandoned there.

"Pardon me, but you're in my light." a youthful elven voice interrupted her perusal.

"Your light?" she blinked at the boy, an apprentice seated at a large table and studying a particularly large tome.

"I'm trying to study, have some consideration for a fellow mage." he grinned up at her.

"You're an apprentice, not a mage." she stated, crossing her arms as she did, and glancing at his tome, in case it was one she needed.

"I will be soon, I have studied hard! I will not let this opportunity pass me by. I want to prove I can achieve as much as any human." he said proudly.

Anna thought him absurd, "Is there a question?"

He looked shocked, "Most humans think we are only fit to be servants! I'm from a farm outside of Highever, my mother is a cooks assistant there. Where are you from?"

"I... was born to the circle." Anna hesitated. The others usually found this fact uncomfortable, "I was raised in a creche not far from here."

"That must have been difficult." He frowned slightly, but it was fleeting, "Life on the farm was hard but at least I had my family."

"Yes... I should leave you to your studies. " Anna glanced away, uncomfortable with the conversation and eager to end it she absently tossed out the appropriate farewell, "Dareth."

She turned away quickly but he spoke again sounding confused, "What did you say?"

She faced him slowly, unsure what words she had used, her thoughts were only of escape, "I said... good day."

"Oh," he looked confused, but nodded, "Good day."

Anna moved quickly through the stacks then, eager to start her research. She managed to locate a tome on demon identification and settled in for a long comfortable read at a well-lit table at the back corner of the library.

"There you are."

It had lasted all of fifteen minutes. Anna leaned away from the book and looked up at the disheveled, dark-haired human apprentice standing on the other side of the table.

"Jowan." she said flatly in greeting.

"I've been looking for you Anna." he shifted from one foot to another nervously.

"Why?" Anna asked patiently.

"I'm not asking for another lesson, honest." he leaned forward putting his hands flat on the table and Anna was struck by the strangeness of them. Human hands, broad and meaty... and hairy. "I remember what you told me, and I've been working on it. Really." He continued.

But, it was strange that they were strange, wasn't it? She had been raised by humans, around humans, why would she think anything of them being big and hairy? She hadn't even seen another elf until she was seven.

"But something's come up." his voice was serious and deep, "Something only you can help me with."

Her eyes moved from his hands to his face, "Do you think I dislike humans?" The thought had been turning over in her head since she heard Greagoir mention it earlier.

"What?" he was somewhat taken aback, "... I've, never noticed any difference in the way you treat humans and elves." he answered carefully.

"So, you think I dislike everyone?" she returned flatly.

"No, that's not what I said!" his voice was higher again, and he straightened up momentarily. "It's- you-... You're messing with me aren't you?" He relaxed slightly.

She gifted him with one of her rare smiles, a small one, before returning to her schooled expression, "Greagoir." she said by way of explanation. "It's not that... Liking people, it's, I'm... not _comfortable_ here, and they are."

"The walls "bearing down on you" again?" Jowan asked with a crooked smile.

She inclined her head, yes, and he took a seat next to her.

"I need you to-" he saw the book in front of her, "Demons?" she nodded but offered no explanation, so he continued, "-to come with me to... to the Chantry."

"What?" she was aghast, he knew, everyone knew, she didn't go in there. "Why?

"Look, we were friends once, right?"

"We were children once." She responded coolly, "You were... not mean to me." she drifted a bit into her own thoughts and added reluctantly, "I've grown distant, I'm sorry."

"I get it." he said, "I always got it. You got into elf things and away from the humans that... its fine, predictable even. I always figured we'd be friends again when you, you know, I mean... in a few years." he was decidedly uncomfortable.

"I won't go to the chantry," she ignored the obvious reference to "growing up". Jowan was too easy to fluster for it to be _much_ fun. "Not in small part because I _don't_ go to the chantry, it would look... suspicious."

"I want to talk alone and-"

"We are alone." she countered, "conversing in the library is not unusual. Especially with a book between us."

"Fine, where to start?"

"How about the chantry?"

"Alright," he sighed as he leaned closer. "a few months ago I met a girl... an initiate."

"Oh Jowan." she said sorrowfully. Initiates have already taken vows dedicating themselves to the Chantry, as such, they can't have romantic relationships.

"-and a few days ago Lily, that's her name," he continued, "discovered I was to be made... tranquil." the rest came in a whispered rush, "there's a rumor that I'm a blood mage, but I'm not! Lily has a plan that can get me, us, out of here. We just have to sneak into the phylactery chamber and destroy mine, then we get out of the tower. I, um, you could escape too, but..."

"My phylactery is gone." she finished for him. This was serious. She could not imagine Jowan had actually taken the unforgivable and deadly step of becoming a bloodmage. No matter how wavery his focus or uncertain his power, he knew the dangers. Nor was he, in her opinion, unforgivably weak. He needed only to calm down, he was too aware of the sword over his head to focus on his spells. But he was too _frightened_ to listen to demons. She could not allow him, anyone, to be made tranquil. The state was an uncertain one, and too close to slavery for her taste. "How do you plan on getting in, or out?"

He shook his head, "Out is easy, that's all prepared for. In is the hard part. Lily says there are two doors, one opens with a password and the magic of a harrowed mage. The other has a physical key. I figured a rod of fire for that one?"

"You need me to help with the first door and the rod of fire?" she summed up.

"Right," He nodded, "you could still slip out too, if you wanted."

He watched her face intently as her eyes stared out blankly, her focus inward as she thought over the possibilities, the ramifications. Working all the angles over in her mind, he knew she never acted without "Knowing".

The grin that spread across her face and lit her eyes sent a thrill through him. It was the dark impish grin that had always meant trouble for someone when they were children, "I want to stop by the repository."

"So you're in? Wonderful! I'll go tell Lily." Jowan stood quickly.

"Not so fast Jowan," Anna said sedately, her schooled expression back, "you'll draw attention to yourself. I'll meet the two of you at the basement door after lights out patrol."

"But how..." he looked at her quizzically.

"I'll manage. And you've been sneaking around for a while, correct?" She looked back to her tome.

Jowan grinned, nodded, and moved away, more slowly this time.

Anna searched the remaining volume of the book before her before getting up in search of a rod of fire.

"Welcome to the Circle's stockroom of magical items. My name is Owain. How may I assist you?" Owain droned in welcome. Owain was a tall dark haired human Tranquil in charge of the towers storeroom.

"I require a rod of fire." Anna stated expectantly.

"Rods of fire serve many purposes," He seemed to recite, "Why do you wish to acquire this particular item?"

"I need to burn things and they don't want me casting for it. Have you seen me cast fire?" Anna answered quickly.

"I have not." Owain answered as he produced a slip of paper and handed it to her, "Here is the form 'Request for Rod of Fire'. Have it signed and dated by a senior enchanter. I will release a rod to you once I have the signed form."

"A senior enchanter? You're serious?" Anna looked at the request form, "Never mind of course your serious. I'll be back."

"Your mentors are not acceptable sources of the signature," Owain droned in the disquieting way of the tranquil mages, "unless physically present."

"Now that is just ridiculous. Of course one would go to their mentor." Anna crossed her arms and scowled at him.

"This regulation applies to you alone at this time." Owain continued, "Incidents of past forgeries have-"

"Right, right," She interrupted him, embarrassed to be overheard, "I'll just have to find someone then." she spun away and walked quickly back to the library. Anna resented being treated like a child even when she was one, resented being ordered around, had difficulty sitting still for prolonged periods, and had tended to play pranks when annoyed or bored. This had resulted in Anna having gone through a number of mentors over the years as well as increasing the number of people in the tower that knew her, or of her, than was usual for any single apprentice.

The first person she saw was Senior Enchanter Sweeney, as old as the tower and twice as blind if she was lucky he may not recognize her at all.

"Senior Enchanter?" Anna approached him respectfully.

"Oh!" the ancient human turned to blink at her, "... Hello, I don't believe we've met... or have we?"

"Oh no." Anna shook her head, "We've never actually met, I'm only newly a mage."

"Oh, of course." Sweeney nodded, acquiescently, "Did you need something?"

"Well, thing is, I'm a bit in a bind." she did her best to seem helpless, "You see, my mentor is out, at Ostigar, with the King, and I'm supposed to be working, but my research requires a rod of fire, and I need the signature of a Senior Enchanter. If you wouldn't mind..."

"Hmm, that sounds reasonable..." he took the form, and chuckled to himself, "You know, I remember when the junior mages I mentored asked for some of those. Turns out they were..." he stopped and squinted at her again. "You know, I think I _do_ remember you."

"I don't think-" Anna widened her eyes innocently and shook her head.

"No, I do." Sweeney frowned, "those eyes... You were the one made everyone think fiery demons had infiltrated the laboratory and you apprentices stole all the cakes for Satinalia. What would they say if I signed this and you got up to your mischief? No, no rod of fire for you."

Anna took the request form back from Sweeney curtly and turned away without a word. That he managed to recognize her was a stroke of bad luck, but for him to hold a childish prank over her head was unreasonable. Though... he had been _particularly_ upset about those cakes.

Anna wondered absently around the library, scanning for red robes of Senior enchanters that may not remember her childhood. Niall, a mage she had spoken to once, was talking to a senior enchanter about circle politics. While Niall might be convinced to help her obtain the rod, he was not a first enchanter, and the man he was speaking to didn't sound like the sort to help.

Anna left the library and meandered down the hall, glancing into open doors. The laboratory always had mages poking around. Perhaps she could convince one there to help her.

There was a new face behind the desk. A skinny angular elf woman, the sort that resembled a bird, strict and upright, called Leorah. She must have been made a Senior Enchanter recently.

"Senior Enchanter?" Anna approached her respectfully.

"Yes?" She acknowledged Annas presence.

"I know this is a bit presumptuous, but was wondering if you could sign this form for me?" Anna did her best to look apologetically respectful, "It's just a formality."

Leorah took the form and looked it over, "Rod of fire? No, I'm not signing this. I don't know what you need it for and I barely know you-"

She stopped short and considered Anna for a moment. Apparently she remembered something that she liked because she finished, "Perhaps you can help me out?"

"... For the signature?" Anna clarified.

"Yes, yes," Leorah handed the form back to her, "Just keep it to yourself."

Anna nodded her agreement.

"There is an infestation of spiders in the caves. I don't know how they got in there but it's probably my fault. I was promoted to Senior Enchanter less than a fortnight ago and I don't want anyone to find out. They'll think I'm incompetent!" She wrung her hands in worry.

"I'll remove the spiders for you, if you sign the form" Anna said.

"Agreed," Leorah grabbed the key from the desk and unlocked the doors, "And do be careful in there. I'd really like to keep the damage done to the Circle's property to a minimum."

Anna clutched her fingers together nervously as the doors closed behind her. The tunnels were well lit with magical lamps but the ceiling seemed much closer here than in the tower. She fingered the ring of study given to her by Irving after her harrowing. It was a silver ring bearing the symbol of the circle to which she now belonged. Usually, they were imbued with lyrium to enchant the ring to aid concentration, but Anna's sensitivity to lyrium made wearing items with the material agitating at best.

The cavern just inside the door was scattered with boxes and shelves. As she passed near she could feel the tell-tale tingle of lyrium emanating from some. She paused.

Anna had what amounted to a few gold from selling her pictures tucked safely between her bodice and her bosom, but Jowan was unlikely to have any money to speak of and Lilly even less so. They would need some money if they were to survive in the outside world. If they moved quickly, the loss of minor items may not be noticed by the circle until they were far away from the tower. It was another risk that she alone was taking, stealing items for Jowan and Lilly, the trail would lead only back to her.

She pocketed the amulet.

Further in, the room split into tunnels and Anna could faintly hear the chittering and clacking of giant spiders. Annas' grasp of primal spells was less than elegant, even her ice spells ended in explosions of a sort, but here that wouldn't be such a problem. Before she could think a plan of battle through a spider dropped down behind her expelling that rattling hiss that sent hearts into throats and usually gave the creatures the upper hand. A surprised mage, however, did not react like normal pray and Anna ejected an instinctive "mind blast", knocking the spider back and dazing it. Then, because she had been thinking of it, she attempted a cone of fire but ended up casting an explosion that blasted her further down the path. When she pulled herself up all that was left of the spider were charred and smoking bits surrounding the blast marked floor. Perhaps this wasn't the best place to practice her fire spells.

While she couldn't practice fire and perhaps should avoid ice, lightning was a little safer in the tunnels as the rock absorbed any stray bolts. Other than that it became a routine of using perfected spells mixed with the occasional experimental technique. An exhilarating routine with giant spiders hissing, spitting and trying to bite her while she defended and attacked with only her depleting pool of mana as a weapon. She continued through the tunnels, fighting and pilfering magic trinkets until she had looped around to where she had entered the cave. With no more telltale chittering or clicking, Anna figured that she had succeeded in her quest.

Leorah nearly jumped when Anna crept out of the door, "Your back! Are the spiders gone?" she asked anxiously.

"As far as I can tell." Anna crossed her arms against the nervous agitation the other was giving off.

"Oh Wonderful! You're a life-saver. Now, where was that form you wanted me to sign?" Leorah chirped happily eager to put this whole mess behind her.

Anna handed the form to her in silence. No questions about how bad the infestation was or what the experience was like? No concern that she may have been injured? Leorah really needed to get out of her own head a little.

"Right..." the Senior Enchanter took the form and quickly signed it, "there you go. How's that?" she asked as she handed it back to Anna as if Anna had any right to critique her. This was why Anna had difficulty with elves. They either accepted being seen as merely "others" to humans, like the apprentice with something to prove, or were apologizing, bowing, jumping servants to everyone, as if any trespass would end in a whipping. This Senior Enchanter was the latter, even being made Senior Enchanter did little to help her not seek approval even from a subordinate.

"Excellent, thank you." Anna received the form with the appropriate humility and grace, a bit more than necessary, as a response to the other's tone.

Leorah grinned in satisfaction, "It was a pleasure. You'll go far in the Circle, I bet."

Anna gave a slight nod and left to retrieve the rod of fire from Owain.

She moved quickly to the stockroom, just down the curved hall and in the center of the floor. Owain was still standing there, almost statue like. It was a bit unnerving.

"Welcome to the Circle's stockroom of magical items. My name is Owain. How may I assist you?" Owain droned in welcome.

"I have returned with the form." Anna handed him the signed form with a vainglorious flourish.

"Everything looks to be in order." he droned as he looked over the form, deflating Annas triumph a bit. He walked into the stock room and quickly returned with a small magic stick. "Here is the rod you requested."

"Thank you." Anna moved as quickly away from the uncomfortable interaction as she could. She hated dealing with the tranquil. They were so... empty.

Anna returned to the library to spend the rest of the day researching.


	8. Sula

**Sula Tabris: "I don't usually drink, but it's been _such_ a day."**

The late morning sun shone down on the creaking sign of the Strung High tavern, a crude effigy of a man hanging by the neck from the strings of a well depicted lute. The tavern, two garbage strewn alleys off the main market square of Denerim, was _the_ gathering place of traveling musicians between jobs. This time of day would see many getting breakfast or dinner, preparing to search for work in the taverns of the city or winding down for bed.

This time of day also saw Sula Tabris, a young elven maiden, nimbly picking her way along the alley, holding the skirts of her faded dusky blue dress a bit higher than was modest in order to avoid the garbage. Her stiffened bodice, highly embroidered with a floral pattern, the cuffs of her sleeves and the hem of her skirt were all a tawny-brown. Her eyes were large, lively and fern green. Her burgundy hair was very short and the curls, no more than two inches long, stuck out at odd angles.

She dodged into the tavern like she was on a mission, and paused. During the day the interior was lit only by the few windows at the front and a couple of lanterns on either side of the bar at the back of the room, it was adequate given time for your eyes to adjust. The main room was full; every table had men and women, mostly human but a few elves and even a dwarf, chatting, humming and eating companionably. The walls were covered with the instruments of the patrons, but a few kept theirs with them at their tables.

She saw her partner right away, at a table near the bar, his head was down and his hand was around a mug. She made her way to him, a scowl working it's way onto her face.

"Are you still drunk?" She accused, hands on her hips. Luke the Lute, a blonde human whose skill with his instrument was surpassed only by his love of drink, raised his head and looked at her blearily, "This is _it,_ you know?" she dropped her hands from her hips in defeat, "My intended will be here as soon as tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow?" he slurred, confused.

"Hey!" One of Luke's' companions raised his mug, "Hey everyone, Little Sis is get'n married! Huzzah!"

An answering "Huzzah" and raising of mugs ran through the general crowd. She had acquired the moniker "Little Sis" because she would sneak in here when her hair was still in pigtails.

"No, no." She crossed her arms in annoyance, "Once I'm married there will be no more Strung High, no more 'Little Sis'. I'll be a _wife_."

"Aw, don't worry Little Sis," One of her many acquaintances assured drunkenly, "I'm sure when he realizes how much money he can make off of ya, you'll be back on the street in no time!"

There was a scattering of chuckles around the room, and the man tried to correct himself, mumbling apologetically, but Sula had turned back to address Luke. Two of his friends were standing him up.

"Don't worry Sis." Laurence The Dark gave her a shy grin that didn't match his swarthy good looks, "We'll get him sober." It was something the Strung High was good at.

Suddenly, Sula found herself lifted into the air, tossed and spun to face the room, "In the meantime," Laurence the Tall (there were four Laurance's that patronize the tavern) grinned up at her as he hoisted her onto the bar, "How about a song? One last private performance for your most appreciative audience?"

"Do I have back up?" She grinned as she stood up on the bar, but several minstrels where already checking the tune of their instruments. The first one to play would call the tune. Sula looked out over the crowd warmly, these were the men and women who had honed her voice, had taught her songs and stories from all over Thedas and how to recognize the audience for each. This was where she felt most at ease, there was no one here whose name she didn't know.

...Except for that elf sitting alone in a dark corner table. He was hard to make out in the shadow, but she thought he was wearing armor and his skin seemed darker than his blonde hair, and the Fereldan sun, should allow. It _was_ a dark corner though.

She didn't have much time to think on him however as the first cords of a tune were struck and if she didn't figure out the song soon she would lose the game.

It was generally agreed that Sula had what it took to get contracts. She had a clear voice and excellent range for singing the sweeping operatic numbers popular with wealthier sorts. Although, while she sang foreign songs well, those that were familiar with the language could tell that she was not. She had an appealing playful demeanor when she performed songs aimed at the common folk. She was graceful and refined in her accompanying movements. She was altogether pleasing to listen to and to watch. If she wasn't so loyal to her traditional father, or Luke, she could likely travel far and well.

Luke was good enough, but often drunk, so no ambitious vocalist would have him, and no tavern would hire a group he was in. But Sula had a bit of the suspicious nature of elves, slow to enter into relationships with humans or change them once they were established, and Luke was a manageable, predictable human, if not dependable.

She performed for her friends until Luke appeared at her feet to help her down.

"Are you good to play?" She asked as her feet touched the floor.

"Sure am." He grinned.

"Hey, Tomas" She turned to the barkeep, "Who's that guy in the corner?" she glanced over her shoulder toward the stranger.

"Oh, Zevran." Tomas said darkly, "Never mind him. He's staying at The Laid Low. Just came in to eat."

"He's Antivan." Luke received a dark look from Tomas for that bit of information.

"Really!" Sula turned to look at the stranger again, only to see him looking back at her. She turned back blushing, "As far as that huh?"

"Look," Tomas leaned over the bar significantly, "He's a well-armed Antivan, so just never mind."

"Come on Little Sis," Tomas took her by the arm, and started pulling her toward the exit, "Let's go before someone gets our spot."

Daytime in the market was a tips only gig. It could be lucrative if you read the audience well and the weather held, but just as often they'd work all day for a few coppers between them. But they worked for themselves and earned enough for their tastes.

The shadows of the buildings were just touching the foundations of those across the market from them when Sula and Luke split their earnings and parted ways. She skipped along the streets, through the stone and iron Alienage gates, the ones the humans controlled, over the bridge and to the lower gates that the elves themselves controlled. There she was forced to pause when her cousin called out to her.

"Hey Cousin, there you are." Sorris was leaning against one of the gates supports his auburn hair catching the light of the setting sun as he moved to greet her.

"Sorris! What a surprise, I didn't expect to see you tonight." Sula chirped happily.

"I didn't want to miss you," He looked nervous as he whispered, "You _do_ remember what tomorrow is don't you?"

"...Summer day?" Sula gave him a wide-eyed innocent look.

"Sula..." Sorris moaned.

She gave him a light smack on his chest, "Your wedding day, Maker willing. Has she arrived?"

"I think so, yes, but about-"

"I'll sing at the wedding if you can get me the backup. Sober backup." She added continuing into the Alienage. "Luke's too chicken to come and plans to spend tomorrow drunk."

"That's all arranged, I think they're happy to be performing with you actually." Sorris followed behind her, fumbling with his words. "But the elder wants to speak with you about the songs. "

Sula paused in her walking, "Yippee." she said flatly, there was no telling what he thought she would think "appropriate".

Her home was not far from the gates, in the "wealthy" part of the Alienage. Elves that worked outside the Alienage near _this_ gate often worked for those who could pay for help but not house it. Because of this, those who had businesses in the Alienage, had them near here and lived above them. Those who worked for nobility, as servants that would be seen or needed at any hour, usually had a bed in the estate. The unseen servants of noble houses, and therefore less paid, lived at the far gate, a much poorer area, which led to the noble estates within the city.

Sulas' father, Cyrion Tabris, had been a much loved servant in one of those estates, and still received a small stipend. Small, but enough to count them among the lucky with their additional income.

Her father was waiting at the steps of their home, a frown on his careworn face. His hair was dark, as were his eyes. He shook his head at her, worry and disapproval apparent in his expression.

"Hello Papa!" She said brightly anyway as she stepped past him up the stairs and into the house. It was a nice two room home, with a large great room with a separate bathing alcove near the fire and a small bedroom toward the back. A cord of wood was stacked neatly along one wall, testament to a mild winter, and bags and boxes of dry goods lay on and under a long shelf opposite them.

Cyrion followed her and closed the door behind him. "I heard you were singing in the market again."

She turned slowly toward him, biting her lip and looking contrite.

"Don't give me that look Sula," Her father scolded, "how many times have I warned you about the importance of appearances, or the dangers of presenting yourself as entertainment to the humans?"

Sula suppressed rolling her eyes, "But Papa... I already have a betrothed. And I've been singing in the market for years-"

"This is the last time." He shook his head and walked past her to the hearth. He picked up a log and gestured at her with it absently, "You're intended will be here within the week, I don't want him walking past you on his way to the Alienage." he tossed the wood on the fire and watched as it caught.

"Yes Papa," Sula said obediently, "I was just saying goodbye to everyone."

Cyrion continued to stare into the fire, "It was difficult enough finding you a match after your brothers' disappearance without them finding out about... everything. Your mothers... ways, her death, your brother." He looked at her, strong emotion straining his voice, "If anything happened to you..."

"Nothing will happen Papa," Sula hurried to soothe him. "I don't do the stuff that Momma and Darrian did. When my intended shows up I'll get married and be a good wife. I promise."

Cyrion pulled his daughter into a grateful hug, "My little girl."


	9. Phylactery Folly

**Phylactery Folly**

It was known to the Templar's that Anna didn't sleep well at night. The darker and more still the tower became the more difficult agitated she became while trying to sleep. So Anna often wandered through the libraries at night, it was one of the allowances given to her due to her particular situation. As the Mage quarters, to which she had been moved immediately after she passed her Harrowing, were smaller and less populated than the apprentice dorms, the patrols were not surprised to see Anna that night drifting around the first floor library like a wraith.

The days' research had yielded nothing about the demon she had seen during her harrowing and little real information about the world outside. However, in a moment of distracted study, Anna discovered that she could levitate. This wasn't something that she had been taught, or even told was possible. But this was not the first time she had stumbled on a spell or a way of casting that was slightly different than what her mentors had been trying to instill in her. This Levitation spell was the only other whole spell to emerge this way, born from the wish to reach a book and no ladder in sight she had flipped her hands and floated to her destination. As with the Bell, she was not surprised. Which surprised her.

"Does the First Enchanter know you can do that?" Cullen asked, surprising her from the edge of the bookcase, "I've never seen anyone else do ... that." he indicated her hovering.

"He must, it's..." She shook her head, no, it wasn't a spell she had seen before. Anna flipped her left hand absently causing her to drift gently to the ground. She looked up at him when her feet touched the floor. "Are you on duty tonight? Earlier I thought I saw someone else. Though with the helmet..."

"No! Not tonight." Cullen griped his gauntleted hands and shifted his weight as he thought of what to say, "I thought you might be here tonight. With your, uh... I-I was just getting some reading material."

"To help you sleep? I suggest the Lessons on Court Etiquette." Anna offered lightly.

"I'll look into it." Cullen gave her a quick grin, then asked more serious, "Are your quarters... satisfactory?"

"As much as any surrounded by stone." Anna sighed, "Such a large bed too... it seems... colder somehow than the small one I had as an apprentice. I shall be returning to it as soon as I find what I'm looking for."

"Oh? Perhaps I could help you - find what you're looking for- the book, find the book." Cullen cleared his throat, "What are you looking for?"

The comment of the jealous apprentice crossed her mind, but Anna would not read into what others said. Cullen was a good man, a dedicated Templar. He would not harbor inappropriate feelings. "I'm doing some … _light_ research in demonology focusing on the identification of their 'natural' forms."

"Demons? Why?" Cullen was shocked, she had never shown interest before.

"The Harrowing." Anna said shortly, "There were several demons there and their forms struck me. I'm interested in whether they present to others in similar forms. Do not worry, I have no faith in demons, Cullen. My true interests lie elsewhere."

"You're joining the Grey Wardens then." he said in a low dark voice.

"I'm not sure, but-"

As Anna was speaking the Templar on patrol ambled through the library, nodding at Cullen and Anna before turning deeper into the tower.

"Yes, right." Cullen took a step back, "I'll leave you to it then, Good-night." he took another step back before he turned and walked off quickly into the tower, bookless.

"Good night." Anna watched the Templars leave. The patrol of the lower library was complete and there would be at least an hour before it repeated. She made her way quickly to one of those odd large rooms that had no discernible purpose, other than the presence of the door to the basement. That was the location of the repository and the phylactery chamber. She opened the door just enough to slide in and closed it quietly.

"Thank the Maker you're here!" Jowan exhaled, "We were starting to worry you'd changed your mind."

Anna smiled at him, "I still may."

"Don't say things like that," Jowan wrung his hands nervously, "Lilly doesn't know you like I do."

Anna turned her attention on the human female standing behind Jowan, but saw little past the robes of the Chantry, "Lilly." she said flatly.

"Right, Lilly this is Anna, Anna, Lilly." Jowan introduced them, "Don't mind Anna she's..." he tapered off weakly.

"I've heard much about you," Lilly's soft voice came to Jowans rescue, "I'm sorry we couldn't meet before."

"I'm sure." Anna walked past the humans toward the first door, annoyed at how unsettled she was by the Chantrys' symbol on Lillys robes. The hall was lit sparingly with a small magical torch next to the door. Barely bright enough not to trip yourself.

"You don't have your staff with you?" Lilly asked, clearly confused.

"Anna doesn't like staffs," Jowan was quick to explain, "says their just crutches. I'm sure it has nothing to do with her sensitivity to lyrium." he added with affectionate sarcasm.

"Do you foresee a fight?" Anna asked, crossing her arms in her peculiar way, still looking at the door.

"Of course not!" Lilly sounded aghast.

Anna turned toward Lilly and ordered, "The password."

"Of course." Lilly stood next to Anna and addressed the door, "Sword of the Maker, Tears of the Fade." she turned to Anna, "Now a spell, any spell will do."

Anna pushed mana, and the door opened.

The group moved quickly forward to the next door.

"This is the door to the phylactery chamber, quickly use the rod of fire!" Lilly urged.

"We must find the repository proper as well." Anna reminded them.

"Yes, yes, but this first!" Jowan cried anxiously.

Anna raised the rod of fire and tried to push mana through it. But nothing happened. She sighed, "It's blocked."

"What?" Lilly looked to Jowan.

He sighed, "She's right, I, I can't cast any spells here."

"It must be warded..." Anna was already making her way down the hall, to another door, "This door must lead to another part of the repository. Perhaps there's another way in?"

"What are the odds of that?" Jowan groaned.

"It's this or turn back." Anna glanced back at them. "I still have my quest."

"Will the rod work on that door?" Lilly spoke as they caught up to the elf.

"This one seems clear of the warding's." Anna raised the rod and pushed, fire shot out not only destroying the lock but knocking the door off it's hinges and activating an enchanted suit of armor that had been standing nearby. "Harel'in!" She cried and threw a Glyph of Paralysis in the general area of the empty grouping of plate mail.

Instantly the thing froze in place. Lilly jumped back and Jowan leaped forward letting loose a flame blast while Anna threw an arcane bolt. The flames died down and the glyph wore off. Jowan threw an arcane bolt and Lilly knocked the mace from its glove as the thing crashed to the ground.

"It's dead." Lilly announced, wide-eyed.

"It was never alive." Anna corrected.

"It was a construct Lilly," Jowan explained, "a magical trap of sorts. That's all."

"I suppose they would have noticed the lock on the door sooner or later," Anna frowned at the heavy door, hanging from one badly damaged hinge, "I just wish it wasn't so obvious... There may be more of those inside." she added.

"What is it you want from the repository anyway?" Jowan joined her at the door while Lilly struggled to remove the shield from the armor.

Anna was silent, her arms crossed, "I drew in the creche, I... thought them important. They took the drawings away. I think they were sent ahead of me. I can't... remember, but I want to see them."

"That sounds like something for the files, not the repository." Jowan frowned. "You can't remember?" For as long as Jowan had known Anna she could remember everything.

Anna turned her large eyes on him, they shone brightly, in the dim light of the hall, as only elven eyes could. "It's a chance Jowan, I just... it is down here. It has to be." she lowered her eyes, "At any rate, we need to look for another way in. Are you ready Lilly?"

Lilly had managed to equip the wooden shield and mace as well as the helmet from the suit. "Ready."

The hallway on the other side of the door had no magical torches, and the darkness was complete, as was the silence. Anna gulped, "Jowan, light Lillys' weapon."

"What? You do it, you're better with fire." Jowan argued.

Anna rolled her eyes to him in annoyance, "That's an illusion. I'm really good at bending perception. Otherwise its bursts and balls and you-can't-hit-a-construct-with-an-illusion _Jowan for love of the Creators just cast some light!_ "

Annas' voice had taken on such an urgency close to panic that Jowan had started the spell as she had said his name. "Sorry," he said when the mace was nicely aflame, "I forgot... I just, you have so much more mana to draw from..."

"Did you just say... Creators?" Lilly was looking strangely at Anna.

"No, I..." Anna thought back, "why would I say that?"

"You did say creators." Jowan said, "What does that mean?"

Anna shook her head.

Lilly frowned, "The Dalish elves worship gods they call the Creators."

Anna considered Lilly for a moment before biting out, "I barely know what a Dalish is, there are few tomes here which mention them and no tomes at all dealing with alternative belief systems, that I know of. I have always and only known the Chant of Light. I can recite it from beginning to end, and I have. Let us just move on, we have light now, and we should move as quickly as possible."

Jowan and Lilly agreed, but progress was slow down the pitch black hallway. They were several times forced to pause while Anna searched cluttered alcoves or when magical sentinels attacked. They soon fell into a pattern, Jowan would blast fire from his fingers at the group of constructs, Anna cast Glyph of Paralysis, and Lilly would jump forward with her flaming mace as Jowan and Anna threw arcane bolts and weakness spells at them.

"I think I'll try lightning next time," Anna mentioned as she riffled through a box, "I _think_ -"

"Oh no," Jowan interrupted her, "you're not experimenting around with lightening with Lilly out there in a metal hat."

"I know more spells Jowan," Anna tossed him another amulet, "It is beyond frustrating to be limited like this."

"Maybe you should have studied harder in the primal school." Jowan teased, pocketed the amulet.

Anna bit back her response 'Maybe you should have just studied harder.' instead nearly snapping, "I know enough to blow your head off. If they were real beings with real minds-"

"I'm rather thankful they're not." Lilly interrupted.

"... Right," Jowan was first to speak, "Let's keep moving, we haven't found the end of this place."

Anna nodded, somewhat cowed, and they moved on.

The hall was much more narrow than in the upper tower, the ceiling much lower, and the shadows much closer. It seemed to Anna that with every door they passed through the hall became narrower, the ceiling lower, and the shadows closer. There was no sound save the padding of their slippers, and the rustling of their robes.

Anna mumbled under her breath, "Gloomy, dingy, dark, deep beneath the Tower the halls close in guarded by -"

"Makers Breath don't do that now Anna." Jowan pleaded, "It's bad enough without you cracking up on us."

"What?" Lilly asked, "What is she doing."

"It's something she used to do to calm down when she first got to the circle." Jowan explained, "Before they started letting her draw and go outside regularly."

"That was after I made the Templar cry." Anna grinned.

"No!" Jowan laughed, "I thought that was made up for sure. How?"

"I'm very good at illusions." Anna gave the humans a sidelong glance, the impish sparkle of her eye almost frightening in the dark, "Had to put up with a Smite, but they never figured out who it was."

"So you're the reason I had to sit through a lecture on magical jokes." Jowan shook his head, "What I wouldn't give to have seen that."

"And they never suspected you?" Lilly listened with wide-eyed nervousness.

"Of course." Anna lifted her small chin, "I had told Irving that he wasn't ready for duty. And I was right, it wasn't _his_ Smite. Another Templar saw what was going on and... came to his rescue. It was just a little prank, any Templar worthy of the title should have kept his head."

"And you weren't punished?" Lilly asked again clearly unsettled.

"I was Smited, what else could they do?" Anna scoffed delicately, "Put me in solitary? At any rate, they didn't _know_ really. I did have to copy the chant again."

"Still..." Lilly quieted when they came to the next door. They readied themselves in case of another attack before Anna opened it.

Monsters, all claw and fang, and no eyes, jumped out of the shadows beyond. The group jumped back in horror before striking at the improbable creatures. Mind blast, fiery mace, and ice stopped the things in the door, blocking a few stragglers that could be seen jumping and snapping beyond their frozen bodies. Anna finally got her chance, Pulling spells from _her_ "illusion" school, which others called disorient, horror, vulnerability, as well as paralysis, to distract the ones still mobile while Lilly and Jowan beat the nearer ones with mace and staff and spells.

The first line down, the second still disoriented and, in quick order, on fire, when a much larger, more fierce version of the creature leaped over them. It knocked Jowan down and grabbed his arm in its toothy maw, and shook. Jowan screamed beating its head with his free arm, Lilly cried out and beat it with her mace, Anna was silent, finishing off the three waking in the door.

The creature let go of his arm and latched onto his shoulder, missing his neck by pure luck, Jowans' focus shattered, the flames went out, sending them into darkness, as Lilly swung her mace, bat like, at its neck. There was a terrible crunching noise, and silence fell as well.

There is no darkness as complete as that found in basements. To Jowan and Lilly, the darkness after the battle was a blanket hiding them from possible attackers, warm and velvety. The sound of rasping breaths something to dampen, the better to hide, the silence proof of their victory.

For Anna, the darkness stretched to eternity, thinning her out, pulling at the connections of her being. The silence oppressive, she strained to hear the muted breaths of her companions, desperate to keep her senses from folding in on her, to know she _was._

Eventually, Jowan calmed enough to inquire after the others, "Is everyone alright?"

"I'm fine Jowan," Lilly's voice trembled as she put her hand on his arm, "What were those things?"

"I don't know. I've never heard of anything like them. They looked like cave dwellers though. Anna have you- oh shit!" Jowan recast the weapon fire as quickly as he could, "Anna are you..."

Anna was pale as bone, her eyes wide and staring, her trembling hands clutching each other desperately. Her breath was shallow and quick, almost imperceptible.

"I'm so sorry Anna." Jowan breathed.

Anna blinked, once, twice, her eyelids fluttered quickly and she shook her head lightly. She looked at her hands and willed them to relax, "Forget it." she whispered.

He nodded, "Right, let's go."

They made it to the repository without any more problems; A few ghosts, some magical constructs. The repository proper, where dangerous magical items where stored, was one medium sized room. And _it_ was well lit. Anna felt lightheaded and slightly disoriented as she entered the room as most of the items here were enchanted with lyrium.

Jowan and Lilly rushed in, looking for a possible connection to the phylactery chamber. Anna walked among the shelves slowly, looking for her childhood drawings. Looking for something that did not have the tingle of lyrium. Looking for... _something_.

Eventually she found something. Not her art, but... something. On a table, on a pillow, sat a clear sphere. About an inch in diameter and delicately secured in thin wire of a very pale silvery-green that swirled over its surface like clinging vines and gathered in a tall tangle at one point. Anna picked it up and examined it, the vine knot could easily be used to hang it from a chain. Though its true use was to keep it from rolling away and getting lost, as smooth spheres are wont to do.

She found Jowan and Lilly in a dark corner at the back of the room talking to a statue.

"... Stone they made me and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And thus I shall endure 'til the Maker returns to light their fires again." the statues voice was smooth and cool, like water pouring down a stone slope.

"Stop talking to it Jowan, please." Lilly beseeched.

"There you go Jowan." Anna said lightly as she came to stand next to him, "It could be worse, they could turn you into a statue."

"They could not!" Lilly insisted, "That is an evil thing, forbidden magic. It has to be."

"Don't talk like that." He admonished Anna, "You're upsetting Lilly. Come on I found something."

"Good day, good statue." Anna gave her a quick jaunty bow before following Jowan.

He was considering a bookcase that was standing against alone in an odd alcove in one of the walls.

"I need a chain." she showed him the bauble she had found.

"What's that?" He asked before digging in his pockets for an amulet from which to extricate a chain.

"It's elven." Anna answered simply. He and Lilly leaned over to look at it, "It's a phylactery. Empty, of course."

"It's solid, how would you get the blood in there?" Jowan scoffed.

"Magic." Anna answered with wide-eyed sarcasm before taking on a more scholarly tone, "It is used to contain powerful spirits. It's virtually indestructible. You remember, don't you Jowan? The warnings they gave about the old glass vials explorers would find in ruins that shatter on contact, releasing some ancient horror? This is what those humans were trying to mimic. An Elven creation."

Jowan looked up from the phylactery, "How do you know?" he asked as he handed her the chain.

"It's obvious isn't it?" Anna accepted the chain and started the task of threading it through the vines.

"But-" Jowan was interrupted by Lilly.

"Are you sure you should be taking that? It sounds dangerous."

"It's empty." Anna assured her, "It's dormant. And... it's elven, it _belongs_ with me." she ended decisively as Jowan fastened the chain around her neck.

"It'll be alright Lilly." Jowan assured her, then turned back to the bookcase, "Look here Anna, behind this bookcase. Doesn't that look like a bricked over doorway? And look, the stones look about ready to fall apart."

Anna knew nothing about judging the structural integrity of ancient masonry, but the wall did look crumbly, "Alright, move the bookcase and let's have a look."

"I can't move it by myself!" Jowan exclaimed, "You'll have to help me."

"Me!? Why me?" Anna exclaimed right back, "Lilly's bigger then I am!"

"We'll all move the bookshelf." Lilly interjected calmly, "If we work together it should be easy."

It was heavier then it looked, but they did manage to move it out of the way.

"What do you think Anna?" Jowan asked, bringing attention back to the wall.

"It looks solid." she said, "Do you know Stone Fist?"

He shook his head and pointed into the room. Sitting right in the middle, looking right at them was another statue. A sitting dog, with it's mouth open slightly.

"I've seen this in books, it amplifies spells." he explained, "Use the rod of fire on that and it just might be enough to knock down the wall."

They all moved to stand behind the artifact.

"Well, that's … convenient." Anna looked from the statue to the wall. It was aimed right at it, which was good, as it looked significantly heavier than the bookcase. She pushed mana through the rod, the rod expelled fire into the artifact, the artifact blew a tremendous flame at the wall, and the wall crumbled.

"It's the phylactery chamber!" Lilly exclaimed, running to the smoking hole.

"We did it!" Jowan ran to her side, "Come on! We're almost done."

Anna followed them silently into the room. Freedom was so close, but what would she do with it? She didn't have her drawings. And her phylactery was on it's way to Denerum.

Still.

To be free.

Free of these stones, to sleep beneath the sky...

Her thoughts were interrupted by a few more constructs, the group fell back into the rhythm of spell and mace and staff and the last obstacles were vanquished. Before the noise from the falling armor suits had silenced, Jowan had sprinted up the stairs to where the phylacteries were stored.

"Here it is, my phylactery." Jowan lifted the small vial high, somewhat in awe, "I can't believe this tiny vial stands between me and freedom."

He held the vial above the stone floor and let it drop. It shattered beautifully, and Anna could feel the release of a broken spell as it did.

Jowan sighed, "I'm free."

"This took longer then it should have." Anna's somber tone broke the silence.

"It's done now." Jowan responded.

"I do not want to stay here a moment longer." Lilly added.

"Do you have a way off the island?" Anna asked quietly as they made their way to the door back to the tower. A much shorter walk as the door to the phylactery chamber could be unlocked from this side.

"A reed float, hidden on the shore." Lilly responded as she abandoned the weapon and armor that she had collected, "I'm afraid there are only two."

Anna shook her head, so if she ran she would first have to swim. But when would she get the chance again?

"Come on," Jowan insisted, as he ran up the stairs toward the door that lead back to the tower, "Let's get out of here."

"Slow down Jowan," Anna called out in a stage whisper as he reached for the door out of the basement, "you don't know who might be out there."

"We're almost free!" he whispered back, "I was so sure something would go wrong."

"Don't say that Jowan, not yet." Anna warned almost pleading, "We still have to get out of the tower."

Jowan opened the door, slowly at first, looked, then crept out. Anna and Lilly followed after him.

Once they reached the top of the small stairs that lead down to the door Jowan said, "We did it!", far too loudly for Anna's taste, "I can't believe it! Thank you... we never could have-"

"So what you said was true, Irving." The voice of Knight-Commander Greagoir brought them to a stop. The Knight-Commander was indeed joined, as he entered the room, by the First Enchanter and several Templars.

"Well..." Anna sighed, this was bad.

"G-Greagoir..." Lilly took a half step back as the group approached.

"An initiate conspiring with a blood mage, I'm disappointed Lilly." Greagoir turned to address Irving, "She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage then. You were right, Irving. The initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished."

He turned his attention on the guilty group again, pointing Anna out to the First Enchanter, "And _this_ one, newly a Mage and _already_ flouting the rules of the Circle."

Anna thought this was a strange statement, she had been, in small ways, flouting the Circles rules for years.

Irving eyed Anna sadly, "I'm disappointed in you. You could have told me what you knew of this plan, and you didn't."

Jowan took half a step forward jabbing a finger at Irving, "You don't care for the mages! You just bow to the Chantry's every whim!"

"Jowan, no..." Anna said in a sad warning tone, though she supposed it didn't matter for him at this point.

Greagoir slashed his hands through the air, "Enough! As Knight-Commander of the Templars here assembled, I sentence this blood mage to death. And this Initiate has scorned the Chantry and her vows. Take her to Aeonar."

"The-the mages prison. No..." Lilly pleaded as the Templar's approached her, "please, no. Not there."

"NO!" Jowan yelled at Lillys' panicked pleas, "I won't let you touch her!" he pulled a small knife from his robes and sliced his palm, calling forth the power in his blood, he caused the Templars, the Knight-Commander, and Irving to collapse.

Anna ran to check on Irving, "Jowan what-"

But Lilly interrupted her, "By the Maker... Blood magic! How could you?" her confusion began to give way to betrayal, " You said you never-"

"I admit... I dabbled!" Jowan tried to explain quickly, "I thought it would make me a better mage."

"It's the worst sort of crutch Jowan." Anna said from her place at Irvings side, he seemed merely unconscious. "It-"

Lilly interrupted her again. All traces of confusion were gone, leaving betrayal to give into stoic resolve as she spoke again, "Blood magic is _evil_ Jowan. It corrupts people... changes them."

"I'm going to give it up, all magic." Jowan started pleading with her, "I just want to be with _you_ Lilly. Please, come _with_ me."

"I trusted you. I was ready to sacrifice everything for you... I..." She seemed close to tears but recovered an icy anger, "I don't know who you are blood mage. Stay away from me."

Jowan sagged, as she spoke all hope of a simple life with her died, so when she gestured for him to leave, he ran.

"What? Lilly!" surprise at Lilly's dismissal of a blood mage from the custody of Templars slowed Anna's response.

"Jowan!" Anna called as she took off after him, jumping over the prone bodies of Irving and the Templar's in her haste. The Templar's stationed by the door were similarly collapsed, and the massive door was ajar. Outside a storm was raging, large drops of rain pummeled the ground in waves and thunder rolled the air. Without a second thought, Anna shot through the narrow opening and was instantly soaked. But she was full of fury as she ran to the shore and looked along it, to the north and south, but the rain made it impossible to see.

Anna wasn't a strong swimmer. And in the dark, alone, with a storm raging around her pursuing Jowan or escaping the circle in these circumstances seemed suicidal.

'Fool.' She thought bitterly, 'Foolish, infantile, selfish- blood magic!' she clutched the bauble around her neck as sharp feelings of betrayal shot through her analysis of the situation. Jowan had lied to her, had tricked her, and worse, had implicated her as a blood mage herself!

There was something inside her that reviled blood magic more then she did the Chantry. In it's most innocuous form it was a crutch to focus and power. A dangerous, addictive crutch, which could and almost always did lead to the unforgivable magic of thralls and the sacrifices of others for ever more power. For there would always be a reason the fearful needed more. Jowan had known this, had known her feelings on this. And still he had come to her!

And now Irving and Greagoir had reason to suspect her.

Lilly had not followed her out, so her float had to be here still.

Jowan was surely gone. He knew where the floats were hidden and Anna had no idea where he would run to. Retrieving him, confronting him, was impossible now.

Anna tightened her grip on her bauble and walked absently down the shore to where the high reeds grew.

Her phylactery was somewhere between here and Denerum. Well guarded and taking an unknown route. Probably the direct route though. They would suspect that she would pursue that first.

She could go back, throw herself at their feet and beg for mercy.

She found the reed float, a poorly hidden crude bundling of reeds bound with twine. The storm may have revealed it, or Jowan may have, as he made his own escape.

She could go to Ostagar, as she had wanted. Perhaps she could gain the Kings favor; she tugged gently at the ancient bead at her neck.

Or join the Wardens as Irving had suggested, at least then she would be away from the tower.

Or she could simply disappear in the confusion of the blight.

It was decided.

She would journey to Ostagar. Once she got there she would hopefully find the King before she ran into the Templars. It was most important that she find the Templars at Ostagar _before_ they found her.

Anna was glad for the float but had to strip anyway. Swimming in layers of long robes would be nearly impossible even with the help. She bundled her shoes (made of thick wool and soft leather for the cold stone floors of the tower) in her robes and tied them in the decorative quilted bodice the elven girls had made part of their uniform. She secured the bundle to the float. She noted the shadow of the broken bridge in the flashes of lightning and made a note to keep it to her left, before running into the frigid lake.

It was not long before her body began to numb and willpower alone would have to see her through the cutting choppy water to the beach on the opposite shore.

Of course, mages are known for their willpower.

In the flashes of light she could see the Inn, dark of course. It's not like she could go in even if it looked as though someone was awake. She dressed in her sopping robes, stockings and shoes. She would have to move on tonight, there was no luxury to dry off or warm up, but the robes and shoes were of a material which was warm even when wet.

There were no maps in the tower, not in the areas accessible to the apprentices at least. They had only the understanding of the land with which they entered the circle. Anna had always been in the circle. Cities', Bans, regions were merely names vaguely connected to cold, boring facts floating in a void. But she did know that Ostigar was at the southernmost end of the Imperial Highway; that the greater part of the lake was to the south; and that the highway paralleled the lake just beyond the Inn before her. She would simply have to keep the highway in sight.

She made her way quickly up the hill to the highway, the night was so dark and the storm so powerful she didn't fear capture near as much as getting lost or wounded. She pushed on until nearly daybreak, pausing only once, when the rain ceased, to attempt "hot hands" to dry her robes.

Hot hands was a precursor to "flame blast" and arguably the more useful spell as it could be used to dry clothes, hair and, when mastered, bodies. Anna's own trouble with primal spells was now evidenced by the few scorched spots on her robes. She had not attempted to dry her hair.

Just before the sky began to lighten, in the pitch dark of the still stormy sky, Anna heard the clinking of an armored person moving quickly towards her. She wasn't sure if it was a Templar, a templar runner or just a regular soldier, but she couldn't risk detection. She pressed herself against one of the highways ancient pillars and tried to be beneath notice. They passed her by.

The first glow of morning was straining at the clouds. It was time to give up the easy travel of the stone highway and get some sleep. She slipped over the edge, leaving the lake on the far side of the construction, and used her newly acquired "Levitation" to ease herself to the forest floor. She managed to find a tree with a broad three branched crotch and wedged herself in it for a few hours rest.


	10. Th'iariel

**Th'iariel: Mir mi sulahn emma din'an. (My blade sings and I am death.)**

I am looking out over the vast and ancient forest, high above its canopy. It's leaves, green and dark, undulate gently over the neighborhood unseen beneath it. A small part of the city, I know, is behind me. The sky is the terrific blue of summer with just a few clouds, high and wispy, drifting merrily on its currents.

The window from which I look is set in a solid wall of translucent white stone. The walls of my room, where the window and I are, the ceiling, and floor, are aglow with diffuse light of the sun above. The light is carried by the stone nearly to the innermost rooms of the pale tower. The Academy.

It's surprising how cold a room could look when all a person's belongings were removed from it. I have passed my tests and now was acknowledged to no longer be a danger to the world. Today is the day of my freedom, and I am just finishing packing my belongings for a journey.

The last item draws my attention, a miniature drawing of my best and oldest friend. Leaning against a column, his long flaxen hair falling to his shoulders, held away from his grinning face with a braid. It was a sly, knowing grin. His ears are beautifully hooked at the tip, his skin deeply tanned, his legs crossed casually, his lyre in his arms.

He was the picture of adventure.

He had promised to return today, to see the ceremony. To try and convince me to travel the roads of the world, to see civilization from the front. The cities and towns and inns, before I returned to the wild ways of my people. He promised to take me to other lands, to find the dance that had so captivated me years ago.

I plan to let him.

A terrible screeching cry pulls my attention back to the present. A great shadow passes overhead and I return to the window. A horrible mass is roiling on the horizon, a shadow of terror on the edge of Knowledge.

"You've seen it!" an elder mage is behind me, "You know what we face?"

I nod, I see and so I Know.

"The battle will be lost, _we_ will be lost." the elder says.

We are in an inner room of the tower, the light, if the sun still shines, barely reaches this room. I am in my armor, tired and bruised.

"Someone must tell them how we lost, describe what we faced." the elder is sifting through some items on a dark table.

"I would fight." I insist, "I would die fighting rather-"

The elder silences me with a shake of his head, "You can die another day, Wilder. Today you must take your gifted memory, your trove of words and description, and all that _we_ have taught you. Here."

He presses a clear sphere, wrapped in vine-like wires into my palm.

"When they come for us, when they revive you, you must tell them. Now repeat after me..."

I repeat the strange spell, a high spell, dutifully. My vision narrows to see only my hands and the sphere. Sounds become muted. Thick red essence bleeds from my palms and as the phylactery absorbs it, and with it me, my vision continues to fade, sounds continue to obscure. Until I can see, hear, _sense_ , no more.


	11. Wedding Day

**The Wedding**

"Wake up cousin, why are you still in bed? It's your big day!" The sound of her cousins' voice pulled Sula out of the peaceful dark of sleep.

"Shianni?" Sula blinked blearily up at the young woman's face. Shianni's shortish red hair was fixed into many 'ponytails' around her head. "Why are you here?" Sula asked through the confusion of sleep.

"Because I begged your father to let me share the good news." She sounded much too chipper this morning, "You _do_ remember what today is don't you?"

"Soris's wedding...?" Sula sat up and was momentarily shocked when she ran her fingers through the short curls on her head. She had forgotten that she'd sold her hair.

"A double wedding!" Shianni gestured energetically, "Soris is getting married and so are you! That's what I came to tell you! Your groom, Nelaros... He's here early!" She practically bounced with that last reveal.

The news finished waking Sula more efficiently than a cup of water to the face, "He's... Oh. Oh! But that's... great, I guess."

"That's the spirit! Well, sort of... Don't worry, I already sneaked a peek at the groom, he's haaandsome!" Shianni grinned dreamily as she laid Sula's wedding dress on the bed beside her, "There's going to be music, decorations, feasting... weddings are so much fun! You're so lucky!"

"Music!" Sula had several friends a the Strung High who wanted to perform at her wedding but she wasn't sure if any of them would be available today. "Who's going to perform!"

"Calm down, that's all been taken care of, that's what bridesmaids are for right?" Shianni chatted as she helped her dress, "Alright I'll stop tormenting you," She said as she fastened Sula's mothers embossed collar around her neck, "I should go talk to the other bride's maids and find my dress. Oh, Soris said that he'll be waiting for you outside, so move it! He's sweating so much, he looks like a human." She laughed as she left the room.

Sula took a deep breath, today was the beginning of a whole new life for her and she wasn't sure she knew how to handle it. She stood, determined, and left the room.

Her father turned to face her when she entered the great room, "Ah, My little girl. It's... the last day I'll be able to call you that." His voice caught at the thought, "Oh, I wish your mother could have been here."

Sula looked up at her father nervously. "Is he really here?"

"Yes, I'm sure they sent your betrothed early for good reason. The elder took it in stride, at least." he answered good-naturedly.

She let out a shaky breath, "I guess this is it then."

Her father chuckled, "That's my girl; you'll be fine." He reassured her, "Think of this as a blessing, not an obligation." He paused, "I thought I would have to give you up, but the dowry proved enough. Or perhaps they took pity on a man with only one child left to him."

"Tell me about him." Sula entreated. All she had heard was that he was from a 'good family' in Highever.

"Nelaros? He's from a good family in Highever, their youngest son. He's an expert at the blacksmith's anvil from what I'm told. And yes, he's very handsome. I knew you'd ask, so I thought I'd save you the trouble." Cyrion smiled at his daughter, "All right, time for you to go find Soris. The sooner this wedding starts, the less chance you two have to escape."

"A small chance is still a chance." Sula teased.

He chuckled, "Still have your mother's smart mouth, I see. Oh, one last thing before you go, my dear. Your martial training... and whatever else your mother and brother trained you in. Best not to mention it to your betrothed."

"I wasn't going to bring it up. It's not a big part of my life anyway." Sula frowned, wondering how much of her past had been hidden from her betrothed, and vice versa.

Cyrion smiled, "That's good to hear. We don't want to seem like troublemakers, after all. Adaia made that mistake."

"Mother was a clever rogue." Sula said, her tone somewhere between affectionate and defensive.

"Yes, That she was." His tone always wavered between regret and bitter awe when he spoke of her mother's abilities, they were what took her away from them. "That reminds me, I know you wanted to wear your mother's boots at the wedding." he turned to fetch a package from the shelf.

"They didn't fit." Sula stated, her curiosity peaked.

"I had them adjusted when I took them in to be fixed up." he handed a pair of boots.

The old intricate embossing of her mother's boots were on new soles, roguish soles made to be quiet and dexterous. A strip of new leather down the middle of the toe was done to stylishly widen the boot slightly for Sulas' slightly wider foot. She put them on quickly, finding them a perfect fit.

"Thank you, Papa, they're wonderful." She hugged her father gratefully.

"Go on, then. I still have some things to do and Soris is no doubt waiting for you." Her father said as he released her from the embrace.

She nodded her goodbye and left the house to find Soris.

The Alienage outside was buzzing, several men were already drunk in public singing limericks and swaying by the front gate, but the commons was where the action was. In the center grew the Vhenadahl, a great tree grown as a symbol of Arlathan, the first elven homeland. Every Alienage all over Thedas had one. The tree so tall it was visible from most places in the city, it's twisting trunk and branches reaching up and out, protective and advancing, Sula always thought it an inspirational sight. The canopy was thin at the moment, it's buds just beginning to open, but later it would shade the entire square under its arboreal embrace.

The north side of the commons where the stage was, was decorated with flowers and ribbons. The stage is where every important event in the Alienage took place. Weddings, important announcements, fairs, it was where her wedding would take place today. And by the looks of it, her father had spent a lot of money on the affair.

As she wandered to the stage, taking in the light and happy atmosphere that was unfortunately rare here in the Alienage, she found herself addressed by people from far back in her short past.

"Well, it's the lucky bride herself, Hello, dear." An older elven woman caught her attention. The woman had graying hair and was dressed in simple browns clothes, highly embroidered and clean. This was not a poorer member of the Alienage. By her side, a man, around the same age, both around the age of her father, stood in simpler clothes of gray and brown. Likely he was more pragmatic than his wife and didn't see the point in nicer clothes, even for an event like this.

"Now, love. She probably doesn't remember us." The man told his wife softly.

"Oh, Of course. I'm Dilwyn, and this is Gethon. We were friends of your mother's." The woman introduced themselves quickly, never losing the familiar tone of a long-lost relation. "We haven't seen much of you since she... well..." she drifted off, presumably not wanting to bring up her mother's death.

Sula took the opportunity to reassure them and get some information, "I remember you, a bit. You haven't been around for a long time. Father never talks about what happened, it was all before I was born right?"

Gethon nodded, "He blamed us for what happened, getting caught and all. We left Denerum after she...passed."

Dilwyn picked up the conversation, "Adia was beautiful and full of life." she explained almost in awe, and added affectionately, " And a bit wild. And then well... after she returned...It was the strangest thing. All the things she taught you, to keep you out of sight. She was so worried the Templars would take you away, but there's no magic in her family."

Gethon brought the subject back from her mother's strange turn, "He thought she wouldn't have gotten involved in that last caper if- ...This isn't really something to talk about today. She was so worried something would happen to you. It's sad she never got to see you all grown up." he ended, misty-eyed.

"We just wanted to see you today and express our good wishes. It means the world to us to see you happy." Dilwyn added.

"I'm very happy you could make it." Sula smiled at them genuinely glad, "It's a great big scary day and it's nice to see familiar faces. People who knew Momma when she was... young."

"We've saved a bit of money for this day." Gethon said suddenly, producing a small purse, "We'd... we'd like you to have it to help start your new life."

Sula was stunned, presents were one thing but money, and so much by the feel of it, was something else. They must have loved her mother very much, "I don't know... thank you, thank you very much, if you're certain."

"We are and Maker bless you." Gethon ended the conversation with a sad smile and turned away to face the stage.

"We'll be here." Dilwyn smiled too and went to tend to her husband.

Sula shoved the purse in her dress and continued in her search for Soris. Apparently, he wasn't that worried about finding her as he wasn't right here. She continued farther into the Alienage, towards his home to find him. If he tried to skip out now... she really wouldn't blame him. He hadn't been able to afford a matchmaker and the Elder had to find someone for him. He also didn't have anyone left to be traditional for. Had he chosen to run off and do his own thing no one would have suffered.

"Well, if it isn't my lucky cousin. Care to celebrate the end of our independence together?" Soris came around a corner with a nervous grin.

He was freshly bathed and decked out in colorful wedding attire that must have been borrowed. She hoped it was, his meager wages were better spent on making his new wife comfortable than on fancy fabrics for one event.

"Easy for you to say," Sula returned the grin, "You knew you were getting married today, I just found out."

"So it's a little early," he said with a dismissive half shrug, "You knew it was coming. I don't know what you're so nervous about, apparently, your groom's a dream come true. My bride sounds like a dying mouse."

"You've seen them?" Sula asked, curious.

"Briefly," He answered, "Come on, let's go introduce you to your dreamy betrothed before you say 'I do'."

They started to return to the commons when Elva, a ratty elven woman only a few years older than Sula herself, stopped them with a sneer.

"So I see you got yourself a big handsome hulk of a husband." she said her lip curling in disdain. Always unpleasant she seemed particularly acidic today. "Excuse me if I don't congratulate you."

"Ok." Sula responded. She was about to leave when Elva continued.

"Your father has the money to get you a great match. Meanwhile, what did I get? A _fat_ , old man who smells like the docks and wouldn't know what to do with a woman even _if_ he was sober."

"I... didn't have any say in this either you know." Sula tried to reason with the unreasonable woman.

"You think you're better than me?" Evla pointed at her aggressively but didn't get closer. "Well, you're not!"

Sula turned to leave when Elva called out, "I may have got a poor match, but at least I have some dignity. Wench." she spat the last word.

Sula stopped. Wench could just be a term for a young woman or one who worked outside the home. But many used it as a pejorative for a woman who was less than moral, or just a prostitute. The way Elva had said the word she meant the latter.

"What?" Sula turned back to her.

"You heard me." Elva crossed her arms, "All that time you spend out there, selling your wares, beats me how your father ever paid off the matchmaker to pull the wool over that poor man's eyes."

"I sing, that's all I do," Sula defended herself, "I work the market to _avoid_ being approached. I'm a _good girl_."

"I'll believe it when I see the sheets."

"What?" Sula recoiled from the suggestion.

"The sheets, if you show us the sheets tomorrow I'll believe it. And if you have nothing to hide, you'll show us." Elva sneered.

"I have nothing to hide." Sula lifted her chin, "I have nothing to prove either, not to you. If my husband is satisfied with my virtue that's all that matters."

She turned and stalked quickly away, Soris on her heals. Once they neared the Vhenadahl she turned to her cousin with wide eyes, "I wasn't planning on, I mean we haven't even met! Surely he doesn't expect... tonight."

"I didn't figure you to be the shy type, cousin." Soris chuckled.

"I am about this." She hugged herself, turning to continue walking, "Do you? Expect..."

"What? No! I'm definitely the shy type." He answered quickly, "And Valora isn't exactly the type to stir the passions by her looks alone."

"Am I?" Sula looked truly alarmed.

"Ugh," Soris put his hand to the bridge of his nose, "I... really don't want to think about that, cousin. But Nelaros may be. To you I mean."

Shianni's energetic waving caught their attention from across the square and interrupted their discussion. She had gathered the other two bridesmaids, decked out in colorful satins and finely embroidered dresses, and they wanted their attention. There were a lot of people milling around now, waiting for the ceremony and the party afterward, everyone dressed in their go-to-Chantry clothes. Three of the crowd were noticeably taller and more well dressed than anyone else.

Sula watched as three wealthy humans, possibly nobles based on their attire, walked up behind her friends. A fair-haired human with cruel blue eyes grabbed at one bridesmaid Nola, a dark-haired beauty. Her strength of will came from her piety so she struggled almost meekly against his hold.

"Nuh, Let go of me!" she managed to break free, and ran to hide in the crowd under the tree, "Stop, please!"

The noble, now fully visible as the bridesmaids vacated the area in front of men, was the best dressed with lots of gold thread and embellishments lining his clothes in addition to the normal fine fabrics. He looked a bit unsteady on his feet when he took in the scene around him and he spoke to his friends in a deep voice, "It's a party, isn't it? Grab a whore and have a good time." his laughter was as menacing as his words and his friends joined him obediently. "Savor the hunt, boys." They silenced as soon as he began speaking again, "take this little elven wench, here... so young and vulnerable..." he rolled the words over in his mouth and grinned at Shianni.

"Touch me and I'll gut you, you pig!" Shianni answered the threat with her typical spirit.

One of the male guests stepped up quickly to try to calm the situation, he raised his hands in a peaceful gesture and pleaded, "Please, my lord! We're celebrating weddings here!"

Sula recognized the leader of the nobles from her time working the market. He had never stopped for her songs and never put down any money but she had heard his name. This was Lord Vaughan, the Arl of Denerims son. He usually had the other two in tow, but no one had bothered to mention their names in her presence. Probably lesser nobility. Vaughan was the important one, but since he had never interacted with her she didn't have much to work with.

"Silence, worm!" he strode over to the man that had spoken and backhanded him hard enough to send him to the ground. The gathered crowd gasped, Shianni covered her face in shock.

Humans were often unreasonable to elves, often more violent to their elven servants than to the human ones and dismissive of those not under direct power. But this behavior, in the heart of the Alienage, this was unheard of. Sula wondered where his father was. Arl Urien was not kind nor thoughtful of the elves in his charge. Largely ignoring them. And while he covered as well as he could for his son's inclinations, he also apparently didn't approve of his son's behavior. And he had never allowed outright and public abuse on this scale. So what has made Vaughan so brave?

"I know what you're thinking, but maybe we shouldn't get involved..." Soris whispered to her. They were near the back to the group that had gathered to observe the humans behavior and were so far unnoticed.

"Maybe I'm the best person to get involved." Sula whispered back, "Shianni will get herself killed!"

Their whispers had caught Vaughan attention, he looked at her and made way to them, pushing people out of his way, "What's this? Another lovely one come to keep me company?"

"No, my Lord, I must stay" Sula curtsied low and held it, "However I would invite you and your friends to have another drink."

The dark-haired friend laughed, "Maybe you should invite it over for dinner!"

Vaughan scoffed, "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Sula continued to hold her curtsy, "I do my lord. Though I thought you may not want it known publicly that-"

She was interrupted when Vaughan turned away. She looked up to see what had distracted him only to see Shianni crack the lord over the head with a bottle. Vaughan dropped instantly to the ground.

The dark-haired friend ran to him, "Are you insane? This is Vaughan Kendalls, the Arl of Denerim's son!"

Shianni recoiled, "W-what? Oh, Maker..." she covered her face again.

"I doubt that he would want any of this getting back to his father." Sula responded quickly, "Or for it to be known publicly. No one may mind the little things but _this_ is downright anti-Andrastian behavior, and that can get even a lord in trouble."

"You've a lot of nerve, knife-ears. This'll go badly for you." His friend threatened. The two humans that were left standing picked up the prone lord, hauling him off towards the entrance to the nobles quarter.

Once they were out of earshot Sula approached Shianni, "You Ok?"

"Oh, I really messed up this time." She groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"It'll be all right." Soris assured, "He won't tell anyone an elven woman took him down.

"I- I hope so." Shianni was uncharacteristically meek, "I should get cleaned up." she walked off without further word. She knew that attacking a lord could have ramifications for the whole Alienage.

"Is everybody else all right?" Soris looked around as the gathered group started to disperse again.

Two finely dressed elves that Sula hadn't seen before walked up to them. A mousy young woman with sharp features answered him in a voice both squeaky and hoarse.

"I think we're just shaken. What was that about?"

Soris laughed nervously, "Looks like the Arl's son started drinking too early. Um," he cleared his throat and looked back to Sula, "well let's not let this ruin the day. Uh, this is Valora, my betrothed." he indicated the woman who spoke before.

"Then you must be Nelaros, my betrothed." Sula breathed. "I didn't expect you to be so... tall."

Nelaros was fair-haired and fine featured with brilliant green eyes. He was also only slightly taller than average.

"You just think that cause you're so short." Soris chuckled.

"I'm not," Sula stated, she was only slightly shorter than average but the two slightly's added up to a notable difference. "he's taller than you too."

"I'll not argue that." Soris grinned, self-conscious again, "I'm... sure the two of you have a lot to discuss."

"Well, here we are... Are you nervous?" Nelaros asked, none to steady himself, "You look nervous."

"It's just... performance anxiety." she clutched her hands together and looked up at him shyly.

"Perform... oh right," dawning understanding lit his face, "Soris told me you were a minstrel."

"Did he?" she bit her lip nervously, "yes, I sing - sang, in the market. But no taverns or parties. Except for... well I was going to perform at Soris' wedding, but, well... Are you nervous?"

He shifted slightly, "I thought I'd stay calm, but now we've met... Let's just say I'm not calm." He gave a small grin.

"That makes me feel a bit better actually." Sula smiled, "I look forward to getting to know you."

Nelaros smiled back, "And I, you."

They were interrupted by the Alienage Elder, Valendrain, who called them to the stage for the ceremony. Valendrain was the leader of the Alienage and presided over all the important events and minor squabbles that occurred there. He was old but he had a proud posture and a voice that carried clear and far. He conversed with the Revered Mother Boann, who tended to the spiritual needs of those in the Alienage, such as performing weddings and the like. She was as spirited and strong in her faith as she was gentle in the administration of her duties.

"It looks like everyone's ready." Soris watched the two officials move to the front of the stage.

Sula leaned a bit to give him an encouraging grin from the other side of Nelaros, "Good luck Soris."

"You too cousin." He returned the grin, "Maybe it won't be so bad after all."

They were silenced by Valendrains sonorous voice addressing the gathered crowd.

"Friends and family, today we celebrate not only this joining, but also our bonds of kin and kind." He paced the stage slowly as he spoke, then stopped pacing with the seriousness of the next subject, "We are a free people, but that was not always so. Andraste, the Maker's prophet, freed us from the bonds of slavery. As our community grows, remember that our strength lies in commitment to tradition and to each other."

As he finished he gave the stage to the Revered Mother who walked up to the front for her part of the ceremony.

"Thank you, Valendrian." she smiled warmly at him and turned to the couples, "Now, let us begin." she started her recital, joy and love of faith evident in her voice, "In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light, I-"

She stopped when Soris pointed behind her. The attention of the whole stage was drawn to what he saw. Lord Vaughan had returned, not only with his cronies but also with a handful of guards in tow.

"Milord?" the Revered Mother said, clearly confused, "This is... an unexpected surprise."

He pushed his way to the stage, soldiers at his back, "Sorry to interrupt, Mother, but I'm having a party and we're dreadfully short of female guests." He laughed at his quip.

Mother Boann scowled at his suggestion, "Milord, this is a _wedding_!"

"Ha!" Vaughan laughed in her face, "If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that's your business but don't pretend this is a proper wedding." he walked to the center of the stage, addressing his accompaniment, "Now, we're here for a good time, aren't we boys?"

His friends had made his way to the bridesmaids. The dark haired one laughed, "Just a good time with the ladies, that's all."

The redheaded noble just laughed.

Vaughan had been perusing the stage, considering his options, "Let's take... those two, the one in the tight dress, and … where's the bitch that bottled me?"

The redhead called out, "Over here, Lord Vaughan!" and grabbed the back of Shianni's dress.

Shianni struggled against him, hesitant to fight back physically again, for the moment, "Let me go, you stuffed-shirt son of a-"

Vaughan interrupted her, laughing again, "O-o-oh, I'll enjoy taming her." he turned his attention to Sula, "And see the pretty bride..."

Nelaros took a step forward, addressing Sula as well, a little breathless "Don't worry, I won't let them take you!"

"Don't worry about me!" Sula's mind darted in all directions, looking for the way out, for all of them, "I can take care of myself, It's Shianni-"

"Ah, yes..." Vaughan approached her, interrupting her as he looked her over, "such a well-formed little thing." he crooned.

"You villains!" Nelaros sneered.

"Oh that's quite enough," He dismissed the elf's outburst, then laughed, "I'm, ah, sure we all want to avoid further... um, unpleasantness."

Sula looked him in the eye, "I'm not without friends. Do this, and one way or another, you'll regret this day."

"Ha! This one has spirit!" He met her gaze with his cruel eyes, and groaned, "Oh, we're going to have some fun." he growled then started laughing again.

Sula was so fixated on Vaughan's reactions she never saw his friend walk up and slap her. He hit her so hard she spun, fell to the floor and blacked out.


	12. Saved By a Shemlen

AN: A quick and short mid week chapter, a longer one comes Friday.

I own not the world nor backgrounds of any but one character.

 **Saved By a Shemlen**

Lyna found movement undesirable. She was laying on cold stone with stone at her back a furry, foul-smelling thing at her knees. She didn't want to move, but she needed to... find … something. She opened her eyes but could only see double images dancing around each other. Moving was nauseating, but she forced herself to her knees, eyes closed.

"Tamlen." she murmured, she placed her forehead on the cool stone, "Dar... Darrian?" she called a bit louder, her voice crackled like dry leaves across her parched throat.

Pain splintered through her head and her vision and was spun and would not settle. She sat against the wall and closed her eyes again. She tried to think, to remember what had happened. She was with Tamlen and Darrian... there were ruins... an artifact and a bad feeling. She had left the room and was hit from behind.

She blinked her eyes and willed them to focus. She was in the hall leading to the room where the artifact had been, between a wall and the rotting course of a … bear thing. She looked over the bear to the door and found it ajar. Going to it she found the room empty, the mirror stood still and clean where it had been. Ignoring it she scanned the room for her friends.

"Tamlen." she called weakly, "Darrian."

There was no answer. Confused she thought they must be outside. Slowly, with eyes closed and leaning heavily on the wall, she crept along aiming for the entrance to the ruins. She hid in rubble when there was noise, or when she had to rest. Monsters began to wander the halls poking around the dead spiders and inert skeletons, but she could smell fresh air and picked up her pace crawling toward the blinding light.

"Another one!" A deep unfamiliar voice broke her concentration.

She looked up to see a shemlen with dark hair and a thick beard and adorned in shining armor tending to Darrian who looked to be unconscious on the ground.

"Wha-?" she pulled herself into a kneeling position.

"Do not worry," He said soothingly, turning his attention to her, "I am a Grey Warden, I want to help."

He handed her his water skin and she took several grateful gulps from it.

"You are luckier than your friend here." The man continued after watching her for a moment, "You seem to be untouched by the taint. If you can walk I can return you and your friend to your clan."

He held his hand out to her, to help her stand. Lyna had never touched a human before and felt that she shouldn't trust him... but couldn't remember why. And trying to just hurt. She took his hand and managed to stay on her feet.

"Excellent." He picked Darrian off the ground and started walking out of the crevasse.

Her vision wouldn't still and her head was nauseatingly painful but she managed to grind out, "Where...?" as she staggered behind the Warden. The effort of moving drove all thoughts from her head and attempting to speak only led to sharp pains through her temple.

He didn't even pause, "Come, the two of you are in dire need of aid."

Silently she followed, seeing only the broad shiny back of the Grey Warden as he tracked her people, likely her own earlier passing through the forest, back to camp. There was a momentary commotion when they first arrived at camp, though Lyna allowed herself to collapse as soon as the human stopped walking. The Keeper looked at her wounds and left her to be tended to by her apprentice, her "First" Merrill, who was far less adept than she was. The healing must have been adequate and she was put to bed. Had the Keeper been able to tent her she would be well in hours.

Inside her aravel, the sounds of camp and light of day was comfortably muted. Her bed was comfortable, warm, and welcoming. She slept until Merrill returned to apply healing balms and elfroot potions and then she slept again.


	13. Wedding Day Afternoon

A/N: I do not own the world nor NPC characters

 **Wedding Day Afternoon**

Sula stood in the late afternoon light in the alley outside The Laid Low, pondering the difference a few hours could make in a persons life. She had awoken in a dark cell complete with a bared prison door, the other women of the wedding party were crouched around her. Except for Shianni. Sula had managed to get them free of the prison cell, rescue Shianni and maneuver an escape from the lords' estate. But Nelaros had been killed by guards during the rescue he and Sorris had attempted and Shianni had been injured.

She had sent the others home but refused to return with them covered in blood as she was and holding a bloody dagger bearing the crest of the Arl of Denerim. She stuck to the shadows and alleys as she searched for a suitable replacement for her finely decorated and hopelessly stained wedding dress. She was lucky to find an old brown work dress in a humans laundry. Bloody clothes disposed of and the bejeweled dagger tied to her thigh, she made her way to the Laid Low to make good on a deal she had made in the lords' dungeons.

Her brother had come to this Tavern when overcome with the desire to get into trouble but had always left her at home. When their mother had died he had continued teaching Sula her lessons on lock picking, fighting and sneaking but had discouraged her from meeting others who did the same. Then she had found the minstrels life and gladly abandoned the life of a thief.

"There ya are." Derrick croaked from a side alley barely visible in the deep shadows there. "I was about to give up on ya."

Sula gave him a weak grin, "Wouldn't want that. It took me a while to find the place."

Derrick grunted his understanding, "You got the silver?"

Sula pulled the purse from her belt, "Look, I have this-"

"Ain't interested." He cut her off as he counted the coins. "I've had enough a your business." He started to turn back into the shadows but paused. "The guards know elves were there. They won't hear it from me, I won't be here ta tell, but ya'll wanna be scarce for a while." Then he was gone.

Sula stood still looking up at the sign of the Laid Low. She had to get rid of the dagger without implicating herself or the others. She had to find a way to "be scarce" until things settled down. And she had to do all this before the gates closed tonight.

Wasn't that Antivan staying here at the Laid Low? Perhaps he would have the contacts to help her.

Sula hesitated only for a moment at the entrance of the dimly lit tavern. She located the bar through the crowd, near the rear of the room, and walked to it with casual purpose. As her mother and brother had taught her; don't stand out, get a drink, grab a seat, plenty of time to look people over when they weren't looking back. Her minstrel training had provided her with the ability to scan a group as a whole, take it all in quickly, size up the room and act.

She quickly realized how deeply out of her element she was. The minstrels that were her friends were also often thieves and spies and sometimes worse. But always with a genteel air about them, they never brought the outside work to The Strung High.

One look at the rough clientele of the Laid Low and she could tell, thieves were the least they were. These men and women were dangerous, as well as rowdy and drunk and armed in the early afternoon. No music played, no minstrel would work here even if the innkeeper bothered to try to hire one. This tavern seemed to share the inverted hours of The Strung High, as it was fairly crowded. It made sense, the unorganized rabble probably needed somewhere to hide out until night fell. The organized rabble having their own hideouts.

The man at the bar gave her a measuring look.

"Wine." she ordered with as much confidence as she could muster.

"Three bits." he tossed out gruffly, obviously doubting she had it.

Whether this was ordinary prejudice, or from experience, or based on her current state of dress, didn't matter. Nor did it bother Sula, she put the money on the bar. The man slid the coppers off the wood into his other hand as one would with crumbs, grabbed a mug from the wall behind him, a bottle of cheap wine from under the counter, and poured a small amount in. Too small by Sula's accounting. She wasn't about to complain though, she had only ordered the wine because she feared the state of the ale. What she wanted was information.

"I hear there's an Antivan here, name of Zevran." She inquired by way of statement as she picked up her mug of wine.

The man had started silently on the next order, brought to him by his harried barmaid, but cast a look over Sula's head, to a back corner of the room. Sula stepped away from the bar, took a sip of her wine and spit it back into the cup. Maybe the barkeep was being kind in giving her so little, it had gone bad. Surreptitiously, she poured the wine into a large foul smelling pot nearby before scanning the corner the man had indicated.

The blonde she had seen at The Strung High was sitting again in an obscure table, corner at his back, and again he was _already_ looking at her. This time though the table was lit well enough for her to make out his features. His hair was indeed blonde, straight and heavy, he had it pulled back from his face with herring bone braids, one at each temple pulled around to join in the back. Graceful tattoos like a dark waterfall ran down the left side of his tawny face from his temple to his jaw. He held his brown eyes partly closed, in an almost sleepy self-satisfaction, and his mouth in a sly arrogant grin. This, Sula recognized, was a look that was equipped with one's armor and arms. Practiced and applied. The expression on his face paired well with the ease of his pose, he had one arm thrown over the back of his chair in apparent indifference. In this room of dangerous people, this man's posture stated effectively, 'I'm the most dangerous one'.

Sula gripped her mug with both hands as she approached him, "You're Zevran right?"

Zevrans' grin broadened slightly and he spoke in a thick smooth accent, "Ah, the songbird has sought me out after all. Yes, I am Zevran. Zev to my friends." he indicated she should join Him. "Please sit."

Sula looked at the chair, but thought better of it, "I didn't think you'd remember me."

"And why would I not? Your performances on the bar at The Strung High have been the highlight of my stay in this Denerim. Is this a problem?"

"Maybe. No, but.. " she looked into her empty mug, dealing with strangers in the shadows had always been Darrian's role. "could we go somewhere less public?"

Zevrans eyebrows rose slightly in curiosity, "Of course. Come, I have a room."

He stood and indicated the stairs with one arm, the other seemed poised to scoop her along. She sidestepped the gesture casually, effectively discouraging contact without outright rejecting the man. It was one of the moves she had learned from her time as a minstrel. Most men weren't aware of the consciousness of the move but would keep their distance anyway. Zevran was not most men, and he followed her up the stairs at a more respectful distance.

Zevrans room was small and spare. Only big enough for a single narrow bed, a chest beside it, and a chair. A satchel lay near the head of the bed, a mug sat on the chest.

"Please, sit." he repeated as he closed the door.

She sat gingerly on the chair.

"It is good that you got rid of that dreadful wine." he said as he moved to the bed. "This is much better, and more effective." he lifted a bottle of brandy from the satchel on the bed and poured a bit into her mug, still clutched tightly in her hands, and a bit into his mug. "Your Strung High has an acceptable brandy. So, songbird, what is it you want that requires such discretion?" he said as he sat on the bed.

"I don't usually drink," Sula stared into the dark liquid in her cup and sighed. "but its been such a day." She took a sip and nearly coughed, it was a lot stronger then she expected.

"No doubt." His eyes trailed down, taking in her ill-fitting, unusually dull clothes.

"You're here on business, will that business take you out of the city?" she took a sip.

"Perhaps," he looked uncertain for a moment. "you wish to talk of my work?"

Sula took another sip, "Maybe, I want to get out of the city, and I need money."

"But this is something we could have discussed downstairs." Zevran reasoned.

Sula took another sip, measured the elf across from her again, and shook her head, "I have something I need to get out of the city, preferably out of Ferelden."

"Oh?"

She put her mug on the chest and lifted her skirt carefully, so as not to show Zevran any flesh, and unfastened the bundled dagger from her leg.

"It belonged to the Arl of Denerims son." She handed it to Zevran.

Zeveran untied the rough fabric package, revealing the bejeweled dagger bearing what looked like a noble crest.

"So I need to get out of town, or I need this thing gone." Sula gripped her mug tightly and took another sip while Zevran considered the object.

"You need a fence then, not an assassin." He returned the dagger to it's wrapping and placed it on the bed beside him. "Though, I suppose not many would take such a thing as this."

Sula shook her head, "I don't know any that would, and I can't risk it being traced back to the Alienage. Or me. I need a foreigner, someone the fences wouldn't recognize. You... they'd think he was assassinated. I thought... maybe you'd have connections yourself who'd take it." she bit her lip then took another sip. "plus, I need to lay low, I need money."

Zevran chuckled, "So, you would have me hire you on? What is it you think you could do for me, songbird?"

"I-I am not just a "songbird"! I escaped from prison and killed three noble men for that dagger." Sula defended herself.

"So says you."

"It's true!" Sula straightened herself up more in her seat. "They came to the wedding with guards and took us away. Five of us. They put us in a cell behind the Arls bedroom. I didn't have any lock picks, so I fixed it so that the lock would jam when the door closed again." she paused to drink.

"You had no lock-picks?" Zevrans' expression was neutral, even serious for the first time.

"My mothers lock picks were hairpins, and I just sold my hair."

"Pity."

"Anyway it worked, when they came for... the first one, the lock didn't take. It jammed the door too though. We had to force it open, by that time," She paused for another drink, her gaze far off in remembering, "I left the others in the cage and sneaked into the Arls room. I... saw the dagger on the table near the bed. Their backs were to me, stabbed the first one in the back, between the ribs... like mama told me, nice and quiet. The next one wore a girdle, so I got on a table and stabbed him in the throat," She raised two fingers and pointed to the side of her own throat, at the pulse point behind the voice-box, "pulled him face down and slit his throat from the inside so the blood wouldn't spray and alert Lord Vaughan. Then I killed him, that was messier, dirtied my dress."

"I can imagine." Zevran leaned forward.

"I heard a guard behind the door so I went back and checked the room with the cell. There was another door. It led to the dungeons. I got lucky, I found one of my brother's old contacts. I convinced him to stage a prison break, but he took all my hair money."

"You would think his freedom would be incentive enough, would you not?"

Sula looked at Zevran for the first time since she started her tale, "It was, for the prison break. I wanted him to lead a group through the Arls room though, that would lead them deeper into the castle, for that he wanted silver."

"Hmm," Zevran grinned again "So, my little assassin, on this story you would have me hire you? The job, I believe, will involve more battle than skulking."

Sula finished off her brandy and put the mug aside, "I was taught to fight too! Give me a dagger, um... two and I'll show you I can!"

Zevran shook his head, "Now this is a problem too. You have no weapons of your own? No Armor? You do not even have your own dress. How can I hire you as you are now?"

Sula bit her lip again, a nervous habit. "You noticed that huh?"

He chuckled, "Anyway, I don't have a job to hire you for. Not yet. Only the rumor of one and a wish to remain abroad a bit longer."

"Oh." Sula looked him sadly in the chest, she could tell the brandy was starting to affect her and she still had to get herself to the Strung High before the sun set.

"I _can_ deal with the dagger for you." he said encouragingly, "There is no need to look so sad."

"It's been a rough day." she raised her eyes to his, "You're very kind."

"Not at all. That is a fine dagger, it will make my stay in the city much more comfortable."

"You _are_ kind," Sula insisted, "I've never met an Antivan before. You hear all kinds of things about people from other places. But you're so nice, and... competent and cool. And you haven't tried anything improper since we met. Just smiled that... smile."

"Improper? Disappointed?" There was that smile again.

"Uh, no, not-no." She cast a glance at her empty mug, she thought she _sounded_ disappointed, "Oh!" she suddenly remembered, again, that she had to meet Sorris before the Alienage gates closed. She stood and stumbled immediately, far more tipsy then she thought she would be.

Zeveran stood, taking her arm to steady her, "You really _don't_ drink, do you?" Zeveran asked a good deal of amusement in his voice.

She grabbed his other arm with her free hand, "I'm usually singing while others drink. I'm sorry, but, I have to meet my cousin at the tavern. He's bringing me a dress. I can't be seen like this! They'll know something's wrong!"

"That's good and well, but how do you suppose to get there without being seen?" The whole situation seemed to amuse him greatly, "Or at all, given you can barely stand. Perhaps you should wait for darkness."

Sula shook her head, "The gates close at nightfall. The guard could let me in but... I don't want to be seen."

He considered her for a moment, "Well, I was going to have dinner at the Strung High, I could get you there unnoticed."

"You would?" Sula looked up to him gratefully, "You are so nice!"

She took Zevrans offered arm, and let him lead her out of the Laid Low and into the shadowy alleys.

"You know, I've never heard an Antivan song. Do you know any?" Sula asked as they moved down the alleys, "I would really like to hear you sing."

Zevran shook his head, "Now is not the time, and I don't sing."

"Well, when we get to the tavern. How can you not sing?" Sula responded spiritedly, "It's an expression of joy! Even when there is little to celebrate, there is always song!"

"I prefer other methods of expression." He flashed her his most rakish grin.

"Hmm, I've heard that about Antivans." Sula said quietly, almost to herself, "But, they say that about anyone from outside, really. Even just outside the Alienage. To listen to the elders, you'd think the world was just waiting to pounce on little girls like me."

He gave a short, quiet laugh, "I would not be so sure they are wrong. Certainly, you can not have lived very long a minstrel without experiencing something of the... pouncers."

"I don't know about 'pouncers'," Sula giggled, "but flirts, sure. Come to think of it, the guys at the tavern warned me about that too. They warned me off you." She added.

"And you are so sure they were wrong?" He turned to her, "Here we are, alone in a twisted labyrinth of alleys. What is to keep me from pouncing now?"

"You're too nice," she grinned blearily up at him, "and, I have your dagger."

She stepped back, nearly tripping again, and waved his dagger at him, her green eyes sparkling in the shadowed alley.

"So you do..." Zeveran breathed, "But, I have _two_." he grinned as he pulled his other dagger and flipped it expressively.

Sula blinked, Zevrans dagger flashed reflected light as he waved it. She made to grab it and he dodged, twisting in an attempt to retrieve his stolen weapon, but Sula slid behind him. She spun and knocked him in the back with the butt of the pommel. He was still off balance and so stumbled, but he managed to remain upright and turn to face Sula.

 _She_ was picking herself off the ground, or trying to, it seemed tremendously difficult for her. He sheathed his dagger and approached her, took his other dagger from her and offered her his hand again. She had managed to steal his weapon, and almost defend herself, while nearly too drunk to stand. Not to mention hiding the cause of the deaths of three nobles in a jailbreak. Zevran hadn't expected to find such potential in Fereldan.

"Are you quite done?" he asked with mock derision.

"Are you?" Sula giggled and smacked his leather-clad chest lightly, "It was fun! And if I wasn't so out of it..." her voice drifted off when she thought she recognized the trash-strewn corner up ahead, "Hey! We're here!"

Zevran managed to get her in the tavern unnoticed. Not too difficult given the location. Once inside there was little to worry about. Another hour would see this place full of breakfast seekers, but most of the clientele of the Strung High were either out working the day shift, or still asleep. There were only the barkeep and a lone well dressed elven youth sitting at the bar.

The youth glanced nervously over his shoulder, and started in surprise, "Sula!" he said as he stood.

"Sorris!" Sula echoed happily, letting go of Zevran and stumbling toward her cousin, "You found me!" She grabbed his arms to steady herself.

"Are-are you drunk?" Sorris asked his gaze turning from concern at his cousin to a hard look at the man that had accompanied her.

"Little bit." She admitted without shame, "The brandy was harder then I thought. This is Zev-Zevran, he's nice. He helped me out at the Laid Low."

"I'll bet." Sorris continued to scowl at the Antivan.

"It's true." Sula insisted, "Hey Tomas," she called out to the barman, "do you have a room? I need to change. And things."

Tomas took a moment to answer, "For a few hours. Second, top of the stares. You can have it till nightfall." he added hastily, "Don't mess it up."

Sula nodded and grabbed the banister to make her own way up the stairs, followed closely by Sorris, who had to go back to grab a bag from his seat. Zevran didn't follow.

The room was more comfortable then Zevrans, and a little bigger, containing enough room for a small table and chairs just inside the door. Sula bypassed them to seat herself on the narrow bed, for fear she might fall over. Sorris sat in the chair closer to the bed.

"What?" Sula accused when he just looked at her, "It's all very innocent, I just needed to... it doesn't matter. Did you get the dress?"

"I got _a_ dress." Sorris looked troubled.

The dress Sorris got was a harlequin pattern dress, composed of thin strips of various colors and patterns. It was bright and unfashionable, designed to catch the eye.

"This is what you got me? To avoid attention?" Sula asked incredulously.

"I didn't have much time! Besides you just need something to get you home right?" Sorris asked defensively, "We need to hurry, the Elder wants to close the Alienage soon."

Sula was silent. According to what she had heard, she needed to leave Denerim.

"What are you thinking Sula?" Sorris asked suspiciously.

"I'm not going back." she stated, "I'm the one that killed everyone, if there is blame to be had it should be on me, but I'm not going to be hanged for that bastard of a nobleman." She looked at her cousin, "Tell them to blame me. Let the others be innocent, they didn't do anything, tell them I did it all."

"What? What will you do?" Sorris asked shocked by her proclamation.

"I don't know," Sula lay out the dress, "Maybe I'll find the Dalish, maybe I'll make it to Orlais."

"You're going to go out there alone?" Sorris asked, "No, I'm coming with you."

"What about Valora?" Sula paused to ask.

"What about her? We aren't married yet, and if it wasn't for you she would be a lot worse off." Sorris responded, "I can't let you face the wilderness alone."

"But..." Sula tried to think of a response to argue her ability to survive between cities by herself but she was as ignorant about that as he was and much more drunk, "Well, if you think you could help."

"Right, well, now what?"

"I guess I could write a letter, let Papa know, I shouldn't go back, but a letter would do."

Sula dictated the letter to Sorris while she dressed. She explained, in much less detail than she had to Zevran, that she had done everything, what had led her to do it and how all blame should be on her. It was as much a confession as it was a goodbye, to be used in case the guards really did come looking for elves. She wrote that she would go to Kirkwall to start over and thanked him for all he had done for her, she asked his forgiveness and told him she loved him one last time.

"We're going to Kirkwall?" Sorris asked, puzzled.

"No," Sula folded the letter, tucking it into itself, "That's just to mislead the guards. We're sneaking out tonight, on the road before nightfall. Maybe I'll meet a friend on the road. You sure you want to come? Last chance."

"I'm coming," Soris said, more confident than he usually sounded, "I owe Nelaros that much."

Sula dropped the letter off with the bartender, one of the elven minstrels would see it delivered in the morning. As they left, Zevran lifted his glass to them from his dark corner table.


	14. Return to the Cave

**AN: I do not own the setting or world or the characters of the NPCs**

 **Return to the Cave**

Time passed as Lyna rested. Only coming to consciousness when she was tended to by Merrill with elfroot concoctions. More intensive measures would have to wait until Keeper Merithari was free. Eventually Lynas head was clear enough to think on the events that had left her this wounded and to wonder about the fate of her friends. When the Keeper's First next returned to administer her treatment she took the opportunity to speak.

Lyna spoke gently and attempted to catch the skittish girls eyes. "Why isn't the Keeper seeing to me? Were they that badly injured?"

To many in the clan, Merrill seemed standoffish, hiding behind her official title and speaking in cool, curt tones. Her short black hair among the largely fair-haired clan served as a visual reminder that she was not originally from this clan, a fact she seemed to feel more than the others. The sharp stylized antler-like tattoos that crossed her forehead and slashed down her cheeks didn't help her to look inviting either. Her large mossy eyes though spoke volumes, and Lyna thought her only very shy and uncertain and trying hard to sound like she wasn't.

"I-It's not they, exactly." Merrill stumbled through her explanation, clearly uncomfortable in what she had to say. Her eyes darted around as she gathered her supplies. "It's Darrian, he's ill with something the Keeper doesn't recognize. She doesn't think it will spread though."

"So Tamlens alright?" Lyna pressed, she was worried that she couldn't remember him coming around to visit her.

Merrill finished collecting the healing supplies and looked at them hard, "We... don't... know?" she asked in a small squeak. "He's still missing. The human went back to the cave where he found the two of you... But the Keeper says he's probably more worried about dark-spawn."

"He's missing? …. How long?" Lyna sank back down into her bed. Tamlen is still in the forest? Lost? Wounded? Ill?

"It's been two days now." Merrill stood, "You should rest, the treatments are working but it will take time for you to return to normal. Hopefully, Darrian will wake soon and the Keeper can finish healing you herself. Don't worry about Tamlen." She ordered, "Our hunters are out looking for him now. I'm sure they'll find him."

As Lyna lay in her bed she tried to remember the way to the cave. She knew she could guide others there if she could see the land. She could not rest. She had to help Tamlen. She fought the tears that tried to gather in her eyes. Crying now would only make her head hurt worse and prevent her from acting. Tamlen, her love, needed her and she would not fail him due to frailty. She needed to speak with the Keeper.

She dressed quickly in her armor, grabbed her bow and quiver, and stepped out into the afternoon sun. Nausea and pain greeted her as soon as the light of day touched her eyes, making her pause, but the thought of Tamlen alone out in the forest, ill or wounded drove her on.

The clan was bustling, apparently preparing to pack up and move on. It was a bit soon to be moving camp but Lyna pushed that aside for the moment, Tamlen was her only concern. She moved steadily through camp searching for the Keeper.

"Mahariel!" The voice of a young man caused her to pause in her search. She turned to see Fenarel a blonde with tattooed branches rising along the sides of his face and reaching out across his mouth and forehead to lightly touch. "You're awake as well! Darrian woke a while ago, he's with the Keeper now."

"What about Tamlen?" Lyna turned to look for Darrian and the Keeper and found them standing outside of her aravel.

"Tamlen is still missing." Fenarel said gravely, "The Keeper seems to intend for Darrian to lead Merrill to the cave the Gray Warden spoke of."

"Without me?" Lyna turned to Fenarel too quickly and nearly stumbled under the effect of her injury.

Fenarel looked Lyna over carefully as she steadied herself. Everyone knew that she and Tamlen were close. But, the deep, colorful bruise still bloomed across the side of her head and that same eye was still bloody.

"Are you sure you're able? You look-"

"I am a Dalish hunter." she scowled, "I am capable of this much."

They waited while the Keeper finished questioning Darrian about the cave and explaining about Duncan the Grey Warden, and his illness. Darrian took it all in with a dazed look, answering questions and nodding absently. Lyna thought he looked terribly pale and unsteady. The Keeper couldn't really be thinking of sending him out, could she?

When he was instructed to take Merrill to find Tamlen he agreed without question or hesitation, straightening his weak posture and hardening his expression with resolve. This mask of intent, absent of self-consciousness or humor was not an expression she had seen on the easygoing young man's face before and it worried her.

As soon as he was free of the Keeper and moving through the camp, Lyna and Fenarel moved to intercept him.

"Darrian," Lyna called to him. He stopped and turned, waiting for them to catch up, "Are you going back to the ruins?"

"Yeah," he answered slowly, "I'm to take Merrill there and find Tamlen."

"I'm coming too." she announced.

He took at the livid bruise and bloody eye, "...You don't-"

"A Dalish hunter doesn't leave anyone behind," she scowled proudly, then pleaded, "It's Tamlen, Darrian. He's in danger. I should not have left without him in the first place."

He could see that she was near tears. She would not leave Tamlen, he knew. She would follow no matter what he said. With him, she would be safer. Even safer if Fenarel came along.

"All right, let's go." He spoke curtly as he walked around the two.

They fell in line silently behind him as they searched for Merrill. They found her on the outskirts of the camp, looking into the forest in the general direction of the cave.

"There you are." Lyna reprimanded, "didn't you know the Keeper wanted you?"

Merrill turned to them, "I was waiting for Darrian, I'm to go with him, and only him." she frowned at the group.

"I'm coming, you cannot stop me." Lyna scowled right back at her.

"I'm coming too." Fenarel spoke up, made bold by Lyna's declaration, "I can help."

"The Keeper says it's too dangerous-"

"I'm coming, Merrill," Lyna crossed her arms, "If you leave without me I'll go on my own."

"He can keep an eye on her." Darrain added, indicating Fenarel.

"The Keeper said-"

"We're going, if you want to come you'd best keep up." Darrian started walking away from camp, the others quickly following him.

"But," Merrill looked back towards the camp and the Keeper before running to catch up to them. They walked in silence, following their path from the other day.

They had just entered the extreme landscape that led to the crevasse when monsters attacked. Three creatures the size of dwarves, but puffed and darkly discolored as if from disease, cried out in a hoarse screech and rushed them. Two of them stopped to aim crossbows, but Lyna's and Fenarel's arrows felled one before it released its bolt. Merrill blasted a second with magic from her staff, stunning it long enough for Lyna to loose another arrow. Darrian rushed to meet the last one well ahead of the mage and archers, deflecting the blow from its sword with his shield and using the momentum to slice its head nearly from its body. The conflict had been short but frightening.

"What were those?" Merrill asked as they caught up with Darrian, "Were those darkspawn? Ugh, you can smell the evil on them."

"I don't know," Darrian stood from examining the snub-nosed face and needle-like teeth of the thing he had just killed, "but these weren't in the ruin."

"They look sort of like that... bear-thing though." Lyna added. "The one we fought at the center of the ruins."

"Tabris," Merrill hesitated, waiting for him to acknowledge her, "Are you alright? Were you injured or anything?"

"I'm fine." He stated with an odd finality that drew the scrutiny of the others in the group.

"You... do look quite pale." Fenarel offered, "Now that Merrill's mentioned it."

"I'm sick," Darrian scowled, as if the illness was some fault of his. "The Keeper said so. I'll be fine as soon as we find Tamlen and look at the mirror. Right Merrill?"

"Y-yes," She answered dutifully, "I'm sure once I get a chance to study the mirror I'll be able to figure out where this illness is coming from."

"Be careful Darrian," Lyna whispered to him once they were moving forward again, "I don't want to lose you too."

"I'm a warrior. Swords and shields protect the back line." He didn't look at her. he couldn't. According to the Keeper, Duncan had said he was found outside the ruins. He had crawled out on his own. He had left Lyna and Tamlen behind, alone.

She placed a hand on his armored arm, "Then be our wall, just... maybe don't run towards the danger, for now anyway."

She removed her hand and they followed the others to what was apparently a campsite at the flat spot they had seen last time they were here.

"This is new." Lyna looked around the fire pit at the center, "The dead halla was here, but the camp is fresh."

"Maybe this belonged to the shemlen? He was returning to the cave wasn't he?" Merrill searched for clues, "Or those creatures we killed, they could have made it."

"I don't think it matters, with the creatures and the shem we know to be careful." Fenarel looked to the edges of the crevasse, only just above their heads here.

"The birds went quiet." Lyna murmured.

They listened, no bird calls, no buzz of insects, even the leaves were still.

"This is not natural." Merrill stated.

"That's an understatement." Fenarel added, "I've never witnessed this sort of thing before."

"It may be related to the mirror," Lyna fretted, "We opened a ruined door. What if it was containing something?"

"Then we should close it." Darrian gripped his sword, "And we should do it fast."

An unearthly growl notified them that more of those same monsters had found them. Three more, and this time Darrian waited for them to come to him. Two were felled by magic and arrows and the last was vastly weakened by the time Darrian needed to act. They were not weak creatures, a bit tougher than the average human taking several well placed elven arrows before being affected, but they were clumsy and unorganized, easy for two skilled hunters, a mage and a warrior to pick off.

This time they didn't stop to investigate the fallen things, instead pushing on toward the ruins. Inside the spiders were gone, replaced by more of these same creatures. Twisted, primal and unsettling they attacked on sight and their black blood burned if it touched your skin. Still, they were unorganized, small groups and easily dispatched.

Deeper inside, as they approached the room with the mirror, they were met with a larger group. This one more organized, with an apparent leader who used a staff and threw spells.

Merrill threw fire at them while Darrian rushed forward, not waiting this time for the group to approach. Arrows rained on the magic-user while Darrian's sword and Merrill's magic bolts took down the soldiers.

"Are you alright Tabris?" Merrill handed him an elfroot potion before he answered.

The mage had hit him with something that burned worse than their blood, but that was all, "It's not that bad." he drank the potion, though he felt more winded than wounded.

Lyna leaned against a wall for support, struggling to maintain her equilibrium under her not yet healed injuries, "What are they? They stink."

"Maybe they are the source of the... feeling of this place." Merrill offered.

Darrian shook his head, "No, it was like this before, it's just worse now."

"Where is the Grey Warden?" Fenarel lifted his hands in exasperation, "There's been no sign of anything but monsters since we arrived. Wasn't he supposed to be down here?"

"That was days ago now." Merrill said, "maybe he left?"

"The mirror room's just around the corner." Darrian adjusted his grip on his sword and moved forward, "If there are answers to be found, it'll be there."

The hall before the door was clear. The corpse of the bear-thing was gone, the trap was still sprung but the door to the room was closed.

"This was the place," Darrian walked up to the heavy door, closed again, "we opened this door fought a monster and found the mirror. So we should be prepared for anything."

The door creaked only slightly when it opened revealing a group of darkspawn corpses surrounding the Grey Warden Duncan. He was standing nonchalantly with his back towards them, his arms crossed, as he studied the mirror that was now showing a nonsensical purple landscape brightened with occasional sparks of lighting.

They entered the room carefully, on the lookout for more humans or darkspawn. Duncan seemed unaware of them but Darrian doubted that was really the case. He shifted as they neared, uncrossing his arms and turned to face them and took a few steps forward, effectively blocking them from approaching the mirror.

"So you were the ones fighting darkspawn. I thought I heard combat." he was almost casual in his manner and posture until he saw Darrian. His expression opened into surprise, "You're the elf I found wandering the forest, aren't you? I'm surprised you have recovered."

"Yeah, well, thanks for the help." Darrian shifted as he spoke, his eyes glancing around the room. This was the last place he had seen his friend.

"Think nothing of it. It was my duty to return you to the clan. The Dalish have always been allies with the Grey Wardens."

"You were still kind." Lyna spoke up, "I want to thank you too. I doubt I would have made it back had you not motivated me to move."

Duncan nodded respectfully to her, "You are quite welcome. My name is Duncan, and it's a pleasure to finally meet you. The last time we spoke, you were barely conscious."

Merrill stepped up then, an air of authority to her, "Andaran atish'an, Duncan of the Grey Wardens. I am Merrill, the Keeper's first."

"Darrian."

"I am Lyna."

"And I am Fenarel. Did you... come here alone, human? Battling all those creatures."

"Yes. Though I must admit, you took a great deal of pressure off me. Your Keeper did not send you after me, did she? I told her I would be in no danger."

"She said you might be here." Darrian answered, "We're looking for Tamlen. Another Dalish that was with us the first time we came."

"So the three of you entered this cave? And you saw this mirror?" Duncan's steady stern gaze was on Darrian as he spoke.

Darrian sighed in exasperation and didn't meet the older man's eyes as he recited the events from before, "Tamlen and I investigated the mirror. Lyna didn't want anything to do with it and left. Tamlen said he saw some dark vision and touched the mirror. Said he couldn't look away. Then I blacked out. I don't even know how I got outside."

Duncan's hard expression softened again, "I see. That's... unfortunate. The Grey Wardens have seen artifacts like this mirror before; it is Tevinter in origin, used for communication. Over time some of them simply... break. They become filled with the same taint as the darkspawn. Tamlen's touch must have released it... Its what made you sick... and Tamlen too, I presume."

"So... it's a fountain of darkspawn taint?" Lyna took a step back, her hands clutched in front of her, "this could endanger the whole forest?"

"Then we should destroy it." Darrian looked again at the tainted mirror.

"I agree." Duncan was again the authoritative leader, his voice hard and commanding, "So long as the mirror exists, it is a threat to anyone nearby."

"The Keeper thinks that the mirror holds the key to finding a cure for the illness." Merrill pipped up.

"She is mistaken. The mirror holds only the same taint as the darkspawn. It will not cure Darrian. I know of a cure of sorts, but for now, we must deal with this mirror... It is a danger."

Duncan turned from them and drew his sword, taking it in both hands he bore down on the mirror with all his strength. The surface shattered in a flash of light and an incoherent growling, not unlike the sounds the darkspawn had made.

When the light cleared Duncan was examining the wreckage. He returned to the group and stated, "It is done. Now let's leave this cursed place. I must speak with the Keeper immediately regarding your cure."

"We're going to have another shot at looking for Tamlen. We came straight here and there are some places he could have stashed himself." Darrian raised his chin and crossed his arms.

"Let me be very clear." Duncan began patiently, "There is _nothing_ you can do for him. He's been tainted for three days now, unaided. Through your Keeper's healing arts and your own willpower, you did not die. But Tamlen has no chance."

"You can't know that!" Lyna cried out, "Tamlen is strong, He could still live..."

"I am sorry, but I have had much experience with this, trust me when I say that he is gone."

"We'll just have that look around first." Darrian stood strong, "We'll catch up."

Duncan seemed a bit exasperated, "I would suggest leaving sooner rather than later. You are sick, whether you feel it or not, and it does you no good to linger."

The elves before him made no move and Duncan was forced to concede, "As you wish, I will see you back at camp."

Once he had left the group searched the room, searched the hallways and looked into the holes that revealed a lower level. There was no sign of Tamlen.

"I don't believe it's a Teventer thing," Merrill mused on the way back to camp, "I think it's elven."

"Did the mirror _eat_ him?" Lyna was despondent and clasped her hands together as she walked.

Darrian wanted to comfort her as he would a friend back home, to hold her and tell her everything would be fine. But the Dalish were not like the elves in the city, and it was not his place to comfort her or to hold her, and he was sure nothing would be fine.

Thankfully the way was now clear, the strange feeling was gone from the forest and the animals had returned. Every now and then, less often than one would think, Fenarel would point out a sign that the Grey Warden had passed this way. Apparently, he was making good on his promise to return to camp.

He was already in conference with Keeper Marithari when they arrived. She smiled sadly at them as she and Duncan acknowledged their presence. "I'm relieved you have returned. Duncan informed me you would not be finding Tamlen. Was he correct?"

"Yes Keeper," Merrill reported, "We searched the ruins as far as we could. There was no sign of him."

"I see. He also told me about the mirror and the danger it represented. And that... he destroyed it." She paused for a moment, as if mourning the loss, "Merrill, warn the hunters, if darkspawn are about, I want the clan prepared."

"Yes, Keeper." Merrill nodded and left.

"Fenarel, Lyna, do not think I have overlooked your actions to circumvent my will in this." the Keeper turned her frown on the two, "I will deal with you later, go to the fire ."

"I want to know about this cure." Lyna stood solid, willful.

Marithari sighed, "I know you are worried about losing another friend, but this is between Duncan and himself."

"What does that mean?"

"Have faith da'lin, and be thankful the taint did not touch you. Fenarel, see to it she stays by the fire."

Duncan had remained quiet as Keeper Marithari dealt with the others. Now that they were gone he stepped forward and addressed Darrian.

"Darrian, you must realize by now that this is no illness. The darkspawn taint courses through your veins." He paused to measure Darrian's response, "That you recovered at all is remarkable. But eventually, the taint will sicken and kill you, or worse... The Grey Wardens can prevent that, but it means joining us, and from what I have seen you would make an excellent Grey Warden."

"... Are you asking me to join the Grey Wardens in exchange for this cure?" He asked skeptically as he looked to the fire where Lyna was seated, her hands clutched together and pressed to her head.

Duncan shifted, deciding on how to verbalize his intent and settled on, "My order is in need of help. You are in need of a cure. When I leave, I hope you will join me.."

"Sure." he answered, his eyes never leaving the young woman, "Whatever, get me out of here."

Duncan paused for a moment but continued in a somewhat more cheerful tone, "I welcome you to the order. There are few elves among us now, but I believe you will find us more welcoming than you may be used too.

"Come now, da'len. Let the clan prepare you for the journey, and say your goodbyes." the Keeper lead him towards the fire, "You were not with us for long, but do not think us untouched by your stay."

Darrian did not argue, he did not speak. He stood stoic and grave as members of the clan came to offer their good wishes and their regret that he would not be remaining with them. Darrian could not shake the thought that they, that Lyna and especially Tamlen, would have been better off if he had died in that bandit raid.

He had arrived with only the clothes on his back and a few coins in his purse, so, in honor of the time he had spent with them and the path he was to walk, the clan made gifts of the sword and shield that had been lent to him, as well as good Dalish armor and some basic supplies for the road.

Once he had received his gifts the clan gathered again, giving him a traditional send-off as though he were one of their own. He and Duncan walked down the line of gathered clan members stretching to the outer limits of the camp. They each offered their blessings and well wishes as he passed. At the end of the line stood Keeper Marithari, Merril and Lyna. Darrian kept his eyes on Lyna as she watched his progress, her fist pressed to her mouth and tears in her eyes. When he approached her, she stepped forward to meet him.

"You aren't staying for the funeral?"

He paused, quietly answering, "I can't, it's my fault."

"You could help, we could find him." Lyna whispered.

"I'm sorry." He looked away, "He's gone. I... look, don't go looking for something that isn't there. The Clan is leaving. Stay with your family, there's nothing out there for you. Here they'll remember him with you, he'd want that."

She slouched a bit and withdrew back into the ranks of the clan, softly calling out the proper goodbye blessings. He nodded to her, turned away from the Dalish and toward the GrayWarden. He didn't know much about Ferelden past Denerims walls, but he felt like they had a long walk ahead of them.


	15. The Journey to Ostagar

**The Journey to Ostagar**

Anna had traveled south during the nights to avoid notice. There were a few villages along the way on the banks of the great lake Calenhad but she had not dared go into them. Instead, she had skirted around their edges with an eye to finding any necessary thing left laying about. She had managed to find enough food to travel on as well as a ragged cloak by the time she reached Lothering.

After she had left the lake behind her she pushed on through the day. She was eager to reach Ostagar to put her plan into effect. She already had a list of spells that might be useful to the king. One, in particular, that could save his life. She just had to figure out how to use it. She tugged at the bauble at her neck.

She had looked down on Lothering from the shadows of the Imperial Highway. She had watched the peasants milling around in drab dirt colored clothes. She had wanted so badly to go into that town, to eat at the Inn and sleep in a bed again. The nooks of trees and hidden ditches were cold and damp, lacking in all comfort. On the bright side, her difficulties had resulted in her improving dramatically at "Hot hands" in order to remain dry and healthy in the damp weather. And after all the bone-chilling nights she had a much better understanding of the cold, and therefore it's spells. At least theoretically.

Unfortunately, Lothering had not only an Inn but also an impressive Chantry and from her perch, she could see several Templars standing vigil at its door. This was likely an outpost for Templars hunting apostates and hedge witches that venture from the wilds. She decided she would sneak past on the highway and hope they didn't notice her. Her robes were covered in mud from her wrists to her elbows and the hem to her thighs, water stained and fraying at the edges, but from her knees and elbow up, the threads still shimmered in the sun. She gathered the threadbare cloak so that it covered the most obvious aspects of her clothes, and fingered the bauble at her neck as she had walked, as casually and as purposefully as she could, past the last bit of civilization and into the wilds.

Once she had reached the wilds, or that stretch of lands between Lothering and the wilds proper, where the towns got smaller and the farms rougher and the Chasind sometimes roamed, Anna could sleep. She felt that the threat of the Templar hunters must now be behind her. Surely, they would think, she would go to Orlais, or Denerim, not toward the darkspawn, not into the icy wilderness.

Not in those shoes.

The tower slippers she had escaped in were not made for outside wear and had begun to come apart at the seams and the souls to wear thin and the wool to smell faintly of mildew.

With the thought of hunters out of her mind, she began for the first time in her memory to sleep at night. Surrounded by the shushing sound of a gentle breeze as it wound through new growth, the smell of leaves and flowers and dirt, and the soothing light of the moon and stars... when they shown. The nighttime world made itself present to her, she didn't have to wake to know that it was there. That she was here.

It was a few more days travel south before she could see Ostagar and the first thing she saw of that fortress was the tower, looming like a Templar in the distance. The same make as the Circle Tower and twice as foreboding. But then this was a fortress built by Tevinter to protect the northern lands from invasions by the Chasind barbarians. It would have had to be impressive.

And it just kept getting taller, the longer she walked the bigger it became until the walls of the fortress were improbably high and long. This was a massive installation that made her wonder what those wilder folk must have been like to elicit such a reaction?

When she finally arrived at the gate she walked in with no trouble, the two guards at the entrance watched her pass without interest. Being ignored was strange to her. She was used to the ever-present and critical eye of the Templars in the tower. Had they seen a mage in her condition there would be questions at the least. Apparently, the guards didn't think they should worry about a lone elf, whatever their condition. Still, she pulled her cloak around her, so less of her robes would show as she entered the ruins, she had to be careful of the Templars. It was important that she meet with the king and gain his favor before she was discovered by them.

She moved past the Tower, it could hardly be called a ruin, and across a wide bridge, that was well on its way to being one. And into a gate room. The close walled hall forked, and each entrance held a high metal gate which could be lowered to impede movement. The gates looked new, she noted, probably installed for the current battle.

She could see the camp of the Mages, complete with Templars standing guard at the entrance, just past the right fork.

She went left to avoid them and saw the King. King Cailan Theirin was a tall human, as befitted his station, and her first sight of him was straight from a legend. He stepped from the shadow of his tent to gleam in the light of a rare sunny day. His flaxen hair, caught in a slight breeze, danced playfully around the neck of his gold and black full plate armor. He wore a proud yet playful grin as he conversed with his soldiers. Probably his personal guards as they were also in beautiful and beautifully kept armor. Except for one archer, a dark-haired human woman with piercing blue eyes. She was in light leather armor which appeared to be only recently painted with the heraldry of the king's guard.

Anna rushed forward, she had to take this opportunity to speak to him.

"Your Majesty!" dodged between his guards, not too loudly she wanted to be heard not overheard, "Your Majesty, I must speak with you!"

He turned his head toward her, "You're not one of the messengers." he frowned.

"No, I'm from the tower." She explained.

He laughed, "Which tower?"

"Oh," She clutched the bauble at her neck, "Kinloch Hold... I have something to discuss with you."

The King eyed her with a serious expression on his face that didn't seem at home there, as he took in her appearance, "What's happened?"

"Oh," Anna blushed, apparently she had left her bravado at the tower with her drawings, "I only just arrived, but I have something, a... spell, which may be of use to you. In the battle."

"Have your superiors bring it to my attention later," he dismissed with a sigh and a wave of his hand and started to move off, "I have somewhere to be at the moment."

Anna trotted after him, "I can't your Majesty, it's something... elven. It could save your life."

Cailan paused, and looked at her again, the serious expression giving way to a charming easy grin, "Elven you say?" He continued walking, "I have always been fascinated by Elven things, and the Dalish. Wild elves living off the land, moving through countries as if there were no borders. Fending off hostiles at every step. But it is difficult to get reliable information on them. Understandably, of course. If you can talk on the move you have my attention."

"This is something to be discussed privately." Anna insisted.

"They won't hear anything." He indicated his guards, "They're trained not to. We aren't going far."

She followed the humans as well as she could, jogging to keep up with the King's long strides. They traveled to the base of the ruins, to the land below the bridge she had crossed earlier. It was far above them now. Funny, she felt dizzier looking _up_ at it now then she had when looking down at the ground from it.

The Kings guard dispersed around the open area and Cailan bade her to him as he walked the grounds.

"This is where the front line of the battle will be." he explained, "I wanted to get out and see how the preparations were going for myself. Loghain hates it when I do this sort of thing." He seemed pleased at that. He called up to where the dark-haired archer was perched on some rubble, "Any sign of darkspawn, Hawke?"

"No, ...Your Majesty." she seemed unused to formal speech.

"Well, then," Cailan sighed, maybe a bit disappointed, "What was it you wanted to say?"

"I," Anna looked around, "I'm not sure it's strictly Chantry," she knew it wasn't, they were quick to label things as blood magic, "but I have this bauble." she showed him the clear wire wrapped sphere that hung around her neck. He leaned down to take the pendant in one hand to examine, "It's an ancient elven phylactery. I can cast a spell on it, and you. Should you be wounded, even almost to the point of death, even should your head be cut off, the spell would activate. Your body would fall into stasis, and your life, your spirit, would be kept... safe, in there. Until your body was healed."

"You can't heal a beheading. Can you?" Cailan looked up from the bead to gauge her reaction.

"I-I, don't know. It's just... how the spell works." she pushed on with her explanation, "The phylactery placed in your mouth will return the spirit to your body. If it, your body, is still too damaged, it would behave like a normal death, and your spirit would behave as such."

"Would it work on a human?" He asked, releasing the bead to hang at her neck again.

"I'm... not sure." she admitted, "The spell will function regardless, as far as your spirit. The only question would be how your body would react to it. If it failed to slow there would be no saving it."

"Hmm." Cailan looked up at the bridge in thought, "What is involved?"

"It's a short ritual, it can be performed any time before the battle. But... I can't discuss it any farther in the open." she insisted.

Cailan nodded and promised to send for her later as a messenger arrived from Loghain requesting his presence. The Kings fun was brought to an end and the whole group returned to the camp at the top of the ruin.

Now she had to turn herself in at the mages camp for that would be where the king would send for her. But she had to do so in a way not to be suspicious.

She walked passed the stage as she thought. There a Mother was reciting the Chant to a group of prostrate soldiers. The recital of the Chant distracted her and she was surprised by the voice of a familiar Senior Enchanter on the other side of the stage.

"Well, what have we here?" Wynne was leaning against a tree her grey eyes echoed the wry smile on her mouth. She had her short white hair pulled back in a short, sensible ponytail. "I didn't think they would release you to serve in the king's army so soon. How did your Harrowing go?"

"Smoothly." Anna crossed her arms and leaned on one hip. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Wynne sighed, "Ah, that old hostility, how I've missed it so. Really, Anna, what _have_ I done to deserve it now?"

Anna relaxed her stance slightly, and looked away, "Nothing. I'm... sorry, Wynne. It's the Chant, it still sets me on edge."

"Of course." Wynne's voice softened, "I had hoped those wounds would have healed by now." she quickly changed her tone back to loving mockery, "What happened to you? You're _covered_ in mud."

"I've had a rough journey." Anna answered, "I was separated from my Templar's and had to finish on my own."

"You entered the camp alone?" Wynne stood straight from the tree, alarmed for the first time, "Well, we'd better inform the Templars right away that you've arrived."

It was not long before Anna found herself in the mages enclave, surrounded by Templars and Mages alike reciting the tale of how she was separated from her guards.

"We were in the boat making the crossing when the most terrible dark storm I have witnessed came upon us and blew us about." Anna used body language, stillness and motion as a part of her storytelling, increasing the intensity of the tale, "The boat overturned and sent us all into the water! I struggled to stay above the violent waves and make it to dry land, but the air was thick with rain and I could not see where I should go. For time unknown I fought for air against the pull of my robes towards the dark depths more than I could fight for forward motion and salvation." she paused for a breath and one of the gathered mages asked meekly,

"What happened then?"

Anna turned her large blue eyes, wide and wild on the questioner and replied softly, "I died!"

"Anna!" Wynne rebuked her sharply.

Anna gave a chuckle and crossed her arms, speaking plainly, eyes half closed, she returned her attention to the Templar in charge of Ostagar, "I made it to shore, found no trace of anyone, found the highway and chose a direction." she unfolded her arms in a dismissive motion, "I figured I would find the tower, or Ostagar, eventually."

"And those that accompanied you?" the Knight-Captain spoke.

"I have no way of knowing." She shook her head, "they may have survived, but I did not see them."

The Knight-Captain was silent for a minute, "We will send word of your arrival at the first opportunity. Do you know the names of the Templars that accompanied you?"

Anna shook her head, "I do not."

The Knight-Captain motioned to an idle tranquil and said, "Have your needs tended, but do not expect it to be like the tower; the tranquil have important duties here. You will have to make do. You are not to leave the enclave without permission or a chaperone."

Anna nodded her understanding and thanked him. When he left she turned to the tranquil, only to find Wynne had already sent him off.

Wynne eyed her seriously, "That was quite the performance Anna." she shook her head and smiled affectionately, "The tranquil is seeing about getting you some proper clothes, and shoes, the ones you're wearing are positively ruined. But for now, we have to do something about your hair."

Wynne and a few other mages helped to take Annas hair down, releasing the damp braids. They carefully combed and dried the road worn strands before plaiting them into one massive dutch braid around her head they then pinned the leviathan tail in a spiral to the center where the rest was pulled into an artful bun.

"If you plan on doing this kind of thing in the future," Wynne said as the last pin went into place, "you'll have to consider cutting your hair. It just isn't practical."

Anna didn't respond. Wynne was right, but her hair had nothing to do with practicality. It was the one thing in her short life that she had managed to maintain control of. Her hair hadn't been cut for as long as she could remember. In the tower she had had to wear a uniform, she didn't even really like the elven version of the robes but those were the robes she had to wear. It made it easier on the tranquil, who made the clothes and disliked change. The only individuality they had allowed her was her hair and as the others had opted for practical easy short styles Anna had defiantly let hers grow.

Once her hair was finished, Anna found some rubble that still lay against the crumbling wall on one side of the mages camp to sit on. She watched the play of shadows through the ruins as the sun moved through the sky and mulled over the spell she had promised the king. At some point, the tranquil that had been sent for clothes had returned and simply waited to be acknowledged.

Anna disliked the way they would wait like furniture to be addressed, "What is it?"

"I regret to inform you that there are no extra robes of proper rank and size." He droned, "A larger robe has been located but alterations will take time as our duties to the king's army have priority. However, an elven laborer has agreed to sell one of his daughter's dresses that appears to be closer in size. Permission has been given for you to wear that until proper clothes can be provided."

The man in question stepped up from behind the Tranquil and presented the dress and shift to her for approval.

Anna was well pleased with the outfit. It was a bit too tall for her and would a bit tight at the hips, shoulders, and biceps. But the dirt brown dress and cream, highly embroidered bodice was slightly worn and faded. This was the dress of a servant, a dress to be over-looked in. Perhaps she would not be trapped in this breathless enclave after all.

"I'm sorry we can't do anything about the shoes." the elven laborer spoke as she admired the dress, "I will have to make them special."

Anna looked at him more closely, this man made the shoes? In a low voice she asked, "How much longer for boots?"

"Boots?" he questioned.

"I walked all the way to Ostagar in tower slippers," Anna explained, "I'll not do that again. I want proper boots. The sort you can walk the world in. Can you do that?"

"Yeah," he looked doubtful, "I make boots that could rival any you can get anywhere else in Ferelden. One of the reasons I'm here. But they're more expensive."

"Don't worry about money," Anna said quietly, "I have a sovereign for new boots but," she added with a frown, "you can do this here? And quickly? You wouldn't lie to a mage?"

The servant smiled and shook his head, "I'd never swindle a mage. Never any customer willing to put down that kind of money. You'll have your boots before the week is out."

"Good." Come what may, she would be prepared.

Boots ordered and dressed in clean clothes Anna was refreshed, and adrift. Time in the tower was tightly managed for apprentices, but here she had no orders but to prepare and to stay in the mages enclave. But she had not run all this way only to let them keep her close.

At the first opportunity, Anna crept carefully between the tents, looking as business-like as she could. Just another elf running just another errand. So long as she did not remain gone long she should not be caught.

Away from the crowded mages quarter, she could find a quiet corner to work on the king's spell. Anna made her way through camp toward the edge of the ruin overlooking the wilds. It appeared that there had once been more to this installation as the canopy was dotted with leaning, sinking tower tops. Anna tried to imagine what it must have looked like before the wetlands had advanced again to claim it. Her knowledge of cities and architecture was limited however and she settled down to her work of weaving a spell she had read once and one she just Knew safely together.


	16. Tish's Ostagar

**A/N:** I don't own the world or the NPC characters. Only my characters characters.

One last thing. I use the term dark in this chapter. As in "tall, dark, and handsome." Because Fereldan is largely white it is used as I have seen it used in such a society to describe a certain sort of white complexion.

 **Tish's Ostagar**

The sun was high at Ostagar and the Wardens camp was nearly empty. They were all out scouting the wilds or in conference with the king's men, teaching them about dark spawn and their tactics. Only one remained behind. But he was not alone.

As the youngest and newest member of the order Alistair had been ordered to remain in the kings camp to keep an eye out for Duncan's return and act as a messenger for those wanting the attention of the Wardens. At the moment, however, he was in a shaded area behind a wall where few would be able to find him, saying good-bye to the would-be warden Tish.

After the Wardens had moved to Ostagar she had managed to make the journey herself and get herself lost among the others in camp to wait for the Duncan to return. Easy enough. A few days ago, however, a letter had arrived for her. One of her servants had given away her location when her father had bade her to return home from Denerim and a missive was sent to her at Ostagar. He had forbidden her from joining the Wardens, reminded her of her responsibilities and promised to send an escort to bring her home. She had never known such a state before. Her games had little at stake and setbacks meant nothing. But now, when she felt there was truly something she wanted, something beyond games, there was no move she could make to stop this separation.

They held hands there in the shadows, Tish's in leather gloves and his in splint mail gauntlets. She looked up at him with her pale eyes beseeching. They were the most honest those eyes had looked the entire time he had known her.

"We... really haven't known each other very long you know." Alistair said hesitantly.

"I just... I've never known someone like you." Tish pouted, eyes misty, "Your so... good, handsome, funny." she moved forward, releasing his hands to drape her arms around his neck, "I don't want to leave you yet."

"I," Alistair slowly put his arms awkwardly around her waist, until this they had always kept a respectable distance between them, "feel the same way. It's like we just met."

" _And_ I failed to become a Grey Warden." she put her head on his shoulder.

"Twice." Alistair responded, "Didn't I hear you say "I always get my way!"?" he attempted to imitate her but succeeded only at generically female, maybe.

She raised her head and looked at him coolly, "Eventually, Alistair. It may take time but I do get my way. Eventually... I'll get you."

"Have you seen us right now?" Alistair asked amused, "I think you have me." He leaned down the few inches he needed to bring his lips to hers. It was a rather chaste kiss that he hadn't planned and so ended it quickly. At her surprised expression, he said uncertainly, "Ah, was that too soon?"

"Not at all," She said breathless, a much warmer look on her face, "I like the way you take initiative." she ran one hand down the splint mail on his chest and looked at it, "Your armor is just too much, Alistair."

"Oh, ….well" his voice almost broke, and he cleared his throat, "I thought your brother was arriving soon. Wouldn't want to be caught out of uniform, just saying good-bye."

"You sound like a cad." Tish laughed and pulled away. She didn't want him to see her blush.

"If I was a cad I would have removed my armor." Alistair grinned shyly.

"Only it's hardly pleasant embracing armor." Tish paused, looking away from him she collected herself, "I simply... It's easier for you I think, I'm going home with nothing to do but worry about those fighting. You can only worry about surviving."

"That's a strange way to look at it." Alistair wanted to reach for her again but when she looked like that, cool as a statue, she seemed untouchable.

"Still, I'd rather our situations were reversed." Tish reached into one of the pouches in her belt, "If you insist on being proper then I suppose I must give you this." she handed him a silky white braid. "A favor, a lock of my hair." she clarified as he studied it in shock.

"Well..., obviously." He looked up from the braid deeply touched, "I ah, don't know what to say. Thank you? I'll treasure it, really."

"I... I'll miss you Alistair." Tish gave him a short sweet kiss on the cheek before adjusting her hood and walking to the courtyard to listen to the Mother recite the chant to the soldiers from the central stage. The stage was close to the entrance of the camp and according to the letter her father and brother would be arriving today, and she didn't want them scaring Alistair off.

It was only a few hours later that Tish saw her brother rounding the stage, with a determined and watchful look upon his face. His armor glinted fiercely and his shortish dark chestnut hair feathered in the breeze. He was quite close to her by the time his eyes found her.

"Fergus!" She trilled happily, as if surprised to see him, "How wonderful to see you. I had wondered if we would meet before I set out."

"I'll bet." He sounded less than amused, but was smiling fondly, "I was half expecting you to meet me in Lothering."

"I was tempted..." Tish admitted putting her finger to her lips in playful consideration, "but I was distracted."

"Don't tell me they've made you a Gray Warden already?"

"Oh no, the Warden-Commander, Duncan's his name, has yet to return, and apparently nothing can be done without him. No, dear brother," she saw him brace himself at the phrase, "I think I may be in love."

He laughed heartily and immediately relaxed, "Are you? It must be one of the Wardens then, you'd never go for a regular soldier."

Tish pursed her lips, "Oh, I don't know... in fact, I was ten minutes from eloping when I got word of your arrival."

Fergus raised his eyebrows but made no sign of taking her any more seriously than before, "Well, this is a man I have to meet, if he can get you to give up on freedom."

Tish shook her head, "I'll not have you frighten him off. Should this man and the sentiment survive the separation, then I shall invite him to dinner. _And_ should he _not_..." she looked past her brother thoughtfully, "then I may be forced to become terribly mercenary and make a lateral move."

Fergus followed her gaze and saw Teryn Loghain speaking with some of his generals. Loghain was a fearsome looking man with dark looks, dark hair and a long face.

He laughed again and turned back to her, "Be serious Tish, he's as old as father."

"Only just." Tish grinned, "Besides he's handsome, available, has only one child in a good position, and, if nothing else, he is sure to leave me a young widow."

"Very young," Fergus grinned back, "If you take to the bed as enthusiastically as you do everything else."

"Fergus!" Tish acted shocked, "What a thing to say to your own sister!"

"Pish Tish, you'd never settle on an old man, not for something as boring as money and title." Fergus shook his head.

"Well, he is handsome." Tish pouted, "Still there are younger men, just as handsome. Nathaniel for instance."

"Mention that around Howe and he'll call him back from the Freemarches directly." Fergus warned, "He's eager to strengthen the bond between our families."

"Speaking of whom," Tish made a show of looking around, "Where are the Arl and father?"

"Howe's men were delayed," Fergus explained, "Father stayed behind to ride with him. They should be along in a few days."

"The battle is only a few days out." Tish frowned in concern, lowering her voice she added, "Howe's men were not the only ones delayed."

"Word was sent on fairly short notice," Fergus brushed it off, "I'm sure everyone will show up before the horde. _You_ should be home long before then."

"Of course. I will likely pass the men on the road." Tish spoke lightly but adjusted her hood nervously. She was trying to remember the names of the forces who were delayed and crossing them with what information she knew of their nobles.

"Yes, but you will not go alone." Fergus motioned one of his men that had stopped and left a distance for the siblings to converse.

"A chaperon?" Tish clipped, though she knew it was coming.

"It's inappropriate for a lady of your status to travel unattended." Fergus recited as the man approached.

He removed his helmet to reveal bright red hair and just as bright a smile.

"Ser Gilmore?" Tish said surprised, to Fergus she asked, "Is that necessary?"

Ser Gilmore was an old friend, of sorts. They had trained together in Highever and in the field. He was enthusiastic, had an appreciation of her humor, and was fiercely loyal to the family.

"We needed someone we could trust to keep this quiet," Fergus explained, "Someone you respect and don't want to get into trouble."

"Really Fergus, I thought Father would send Duke. Doesn't Ser Gilmore have anything better to do than follow me around." she objected.

"Yes, he does." Fergus answered seriously, "as it happens he has been chosen to help guard the castle while most of the men are away. _You_ are to keep everything else in order while we're gone. As for your mabari, he's still obeying your orders to "take care of Oren" until you return."

"He's such a good boy. And I am to run the Castle and keep the nobility in line. Wonderful." Tish sighed in resignation, not exactly exciting stuff. "What about Mother?"

"She's going visiting with one of her friends," Fergus explained, "She's only waiting for your return. Oriana and Oren will remain at Highever with you, so you shouldn't be lonely."

"Very well. Hello Ser Gilmore," She addressed him warmly, "I will endeavor to behave myself on our journey."

"I would appreciate that my Lady." Ser Gilmore replied carefully.

"Well. Let's be off then." She turned to her brother, "Be safe dear brother."

"You as well Tish." Fergus said affectionately. They started to part when Fergus called back to her. "One thing I know about your man Tish, he's not dark."

Both Loghain and Nathaniel sported dark hair and complexions.

"I think you overplayed it." Ser Gilmore offered when he saw Tish pouting.

"I think I have been playing these games too long with him." She adjusted her hood again, "I need to adjust my expectations and reevaluate my tactics. Let us be off."


	17. The Wardens of Ostagar

**AN** : Released early cause it's done and this weekend is not going to happen for me. Oh, and little feedback would be nice.

 **The Wardens of Ostagar**

The King himself had welcomed the Warden Commander Duncan and his new recruit to Ostagar, updating Duncan on the successes of his men in fighting the darkspawn so far. He had seemed oddly cheerful about the whole thing. A cheerfulness that was almost contagious, even endearing. Though his demeanor somehow reminded Darrian of how small and ordinary he was. He stood, barely listening to the two men speak, thinking how much his sister would enjoy standing here in his place. She and the King would probably get on beautifully together.

After the king had left them to themselves, Duncan began a speech Darrian had heard in various forms as they made their way west through the ruins and he only partially paid attention. Instead, he studied his surroundings. There were a lot of roofless walls and arches supporting nothing scattered around. There were also a lot of towering structures still mostly intact. Even in its current state, it was impressive, or oppressive. One actual tower seemed in good repair, with nothing missing and the top evidently still complete.

The blight, Duncan continued, is a serious danger to not only Ferelden, but all of Thadas. The Grey Wardens of Orlais will not reach Ostagar before the darkspawn. There were not enough Wardens in Ferelden to face the blight without them.

"... We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference. To that end, we should proceed with the Joining ritual without delay."

Darrians attention was brought back to the conversation at this and he stopped walking, "Ritual? Like, um... magic? Is that how being a Grey Warden will heal me? The way you say that sounds like magic. "

Duncan paused for a moment before settling on, "Every recruit must go through a secret ritual we call the Joining in order to become a Grey Warden. And yes the Joining is what will cure you of the suffering your tainted blood surely brings you. If it had been possible, I would have done it before now"

"Right," Darrian didn't like secrecy in schemes he got involved with and Duncan had a way of talking around subjects instead of addressing them head-on, "So what do I do?"

Duncan started walking again, leading Darrian toward a nearly ruined bridge, "Feel free to explore the camp here as you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being. There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. Seek him out and tell him it's time to summon the other recruits. There is no rush as I have business I must attend to. However, I do want to meet all of the recruits well before sunset."

With a small formal bow, arms crossed over the chest with a curt nod that signified Darrian's status in relation to his, Duncan left Darrian on his own for the first time since he agreed to join.

Darrian looked back to the gate out. After all, if he went through with this all he had to look forward to was a lifetime in a military organization. But... he needed that cure and it was a job he knew he could do.

He looked at the Tower again. It was far taller and in better shape than the rest of the ruins and he wondered if this was _the_ mages' tower. At its base, a soldier was stationed outside a hastily constructed gate. Darrian ambled over to the guard, observing him as he approached.

"Good day." he said casually and the soldier answered back in kind and seemed happy for the distraction, "Is that the mage tower?"

"Na, that's up in Lake Calenhad, this is the Tower of Ishal. I think they used it once to watch for Wilders coming out of the forest." the guard shrugged.

"Is it in use now? For darkspawn?"

"Not quite, Teyrn Loghain has his men securing it for the coming battle but I'm told they found some lower chambers, so, for now, it's off limits."

"Because of lower chambers?" That didn't seem like much of a risk to Darrian, "Can't you just post a guard at the stairs or something?"

"These are Tyrn Loghains orders." the guard shrugged again.

"Huh, well, thanks." Darrian nodded to the man and walked back towards the King's camp. He had orders to find an Alistair and while he was in no hurry, he didn't want to waste time either.

He walked across the bridge suddenly self-conscious without his human escort. A soldier stood at the far side of the bridge eyeing him as he approached.

"Hail," the man's demeanor was more pleasant than his expression, "you must be the Grey Warden recruit that Duncan brought."

"That's me. Glad he's spread the word." Darrian stopped in front of the human, "I'm supposed to find a Grey Warden called Alistair. Any idea where he might be."

The Soldier nodded, "Yeah, he's been playing messenger while the Commander was gone. Try heading north. I think he was sent with a message to the mages."

"Thanks." Darrian bid the man farewell and moved on.

He turned north past the gatehouse and saw the mage enclosure with Templar's guarding the entrance. They were in full plate, including the helmets, which completely covered the face so that only the shine of their eyes could be seen. The other soldiers may be at ease in camp but the Templar's made it known they were on duty. The few Darrian had seen around Denerim had left the helmet off unless they were hunting a mage.

"Hail Ser Templar." Darrian addressed them, "Have you seen a Grey Warden Alistair? I heard he was sent with a message."

The Templars looked at each other before one responded. "Alistair is not here. Try the old temple, east of the war council room north of here." his voice was muffled and hoarse, probably from trying to be heard through the solid Templar helmet. He had pointed west, though to be fair, west was the only way to move forward from here.

"Thanks." Darrian moved on in the direction indicated by the Templar and the walls of the gatehouse opened into a busy courtyard.

It was full of soldiers, Sisters, and servants. The Soldiers hung around, praying with the sisters or gossiping. There even seemed to be a lecture going on further south. Darrian turned from the busy courtyard to see a ramp leading northward. At the top was a dark quiet area like a great hall, only with no roof. To the left, at the end of the hall, there was a table with several elven servants fussing around it.

There were no humans though, so he looked to the right, and up another ramp leading to what might have been a half crumbled tower, with many high arches around its circular floor. This was probably the "old temple". In the middle of this floor, a man in robes of rich and colorful fabrics stood arguing with a tall young blonde human in scale mail and with a Templar shield hung on his back.

Darrian caught the tail end of the discussion as he approached.

"- Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!" the robed man was indignant about something.

"Yes," the young blonde responded with mock patience, "I was harassing _you_ by delivering a message."

"Your glibness does you no credit." the dark-haired man turned his nose up to the other one.

"Here I thought we were getting along so well," The blonde responded lightly, "I was even going to name one my children after you... the _grumpy_ one."

"Enough!" the man sagged slightly, "I will speak to the woman if I must. Get out of my way, fool!"

This last statement was aimed at Darrian as the robed man brushed past him on his way down the ramp.

"And a good day to you." Darrian called after him.

"You know," The blonde turned to address Darrian, apparently he hadn't finished with the conversation yet, though his voice lacked the snarkiness of before. "One good thing about the blight is how it brings people together."

"Riiiight," Darrian said slowly, "You must be Alistair."

"Wait, we haven't met, have we?" Alistair studied his face, "I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?"

"No, I'm a, well, I'm a Grey Warden recruit." he cleared his throat, it felt strange to say, official in a way he wasn't used to, "Darrian Tabris. Duncan sent me to find you."

"Ah, yes. As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining." Alistair practically recited. "So I'm curious: Have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?"

"Yeah," Darrian shifted a bit, "I was with the Dalish when … we ran into some darkspawn. Duncan saved me."

"That sounds familiar." Alistair smiled fondly to himself before returning to the conversation, his voice low and conspiratorial, "I've only fought them once up close. And that was before the battles here started... Tell me, did you find them as monstrous as I did?"

"Yeah. Tough and ugly, but killable if you keep your head about you."

"You'll be at an advantage, then." Alistair's voice returned to a normal level, "Most new recruits have never even _seen_ darkspawn. Anyhow, we should head back to Duncan. I imagine he's eager to get things started. Hopefully, the other recruits haven't wandered too far."

Alistair led the way past the mages' enclave and the stage, nearly to the fortresses far southern wall, to a bonfire that Duncan had specified as his meeting place. Word of Duncan's arrival in camp had spread to the other recruits and they were already waiting there.

Duncan welcomed them to the meeting and while he was admonishing Alistair for antagonizing mages Darrian studied the other two recruits. They were both humans. One was a close-shaven knight sort. While he was pleasant enough in his expression, not severe nor flippant, he was otherwise all pride and armor and had rather dull eyes. The other recruit tugged at his memory somehow. He was a dark, sharp-featured, squirrelly fellow with quick eyes and nervous fingers.

"What?" the other man finally confronted Darrian on his scrutiny. His voice was a bit high and quick like everything else.

"The Laid low." Darrian threw the name out factually.

"Yeah?" he studied Darrian back, "Yeah! I seen you 'round there."

"Do you two know each other?" Duncan turned from Alistair.

"No." they answered together.

"We just went to the same bar." Darrian finished, he addressed the other recruits. "Darrian."

"Daveth." the other fellow responded.

"Ser Jory is my name." the Knightly man spoke for the first time. He even sounded the part.

"Now that introductions are out of the way I'll explain the tasks ahead of you." Duncan addressed the recruits, "You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit."

Darrian spoke darkly, "It's a part of the ritual, that's why it's a cure, isn't it?"

"I'll explain more once you've returned," Duncan continued. "As for the second task; there was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls were left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Alistair," He addressed him again directly, "Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can."

"Blood and scrolls, got it." Darrian gave a quick nod.

"Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly and safely."

"We will." Alistair announced.

"May the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when you return." Duncan watched them leave the circle of the fire before turning away.

Outside the gates of Ostagar, the Wilds were cold and wet. Large puddles dotted the land hidden in the greenery of the sodden earth. Daveth was kind enough to point out the sort of plants that grew directly out of standing water. But not before laughing at the northern lads who struggled with navigating the land. The darkspawn had no such trouble, but luck was on their side and they received only mild injuries during their battles.

They took a break to sit on a small stone floor nearly encircled with pillars on the top of a hill where the ground was somewhat more solid. On three sides ancient statues and fancy domed roofs were sticking out of the water at odd angles around them.

"I grew up in a village 'bout a days travel to the east." Daveth explained. His sat with his back to a pillar fingering a flashy flower. He said it was worth some small reward but wouldn't share how.

"Great." Darrian grumbled, scraping the mud off his boots, "Any more native wisdom to pass on?"

"I'd've thought the Dalish would have taught ya somethin'." Daveth laughed, "That is Dalish isn't it?" he made a general motion to Darrian's armor.

"I wasn't a very good Dalish." Darrian flashed Daveth a grin, "Like you with purses."

"Hey, I did well enough. Duncans faster than he looks"

"How did you find the Dalish, Darrian?" Ser Jory changed the subject.

"They found me, on the road to..." Darrian counted the vials of darkspawn blood, there were still only two, "Look, Ser Jory, you're not finding anything noble here. I was a thug and a burglar and I never did anything worth anything."

After a moments silence Ser Jory spoke, his naive confidence strong despite the mood, "Duncan must have seen something of worth in the both of you. Whatever your history, you have performed well this afternoon. You are quite skilled with your sword Darrian."

"... Thanks." Darrian stood up, "We have two vials, one to go. Alistair, what's the odds the tower we want is one of those." he pointed at the mostly sunken structures.

"Very low." Alistair stood with him, the others following suit, "I understand it to be on higher ground a bit further in."

"Right, Let's get this last vial of blood, thin out the darkspawn ranks and find those scrolls." Darrian grinned at the humans, "And then back to a warm fire and food."

Ser Jory perked up at the thought of returning to the camp and Daveth lamented goodnaturedly about the small portions and poor quality of the food provided for them.

The wilds eventually revealed the ruins of what may have once been the base of a tower. Only the remnants of walls clung to strained arches, and lone columns stood supporting nothing. The floor was so strewn with dirt, loose stones and rubble it couldn't be seen. But this was just the entrance to the tower from the wilds. Within was another ramp leading to the main tower, now completely fallen in on itself.

They moved around the ruin carefully, the place had the feeling of a graveyard. Darrian was the first to see the chest. It was the only bit of furniture remaining in the structure, sitting among blocks of toppled masonry, it's lid was crushed in. He moved to look inside through the damaged top, trying not to touch it as he was uncertain if it was trapped or not. It appeared to be empty.

"Well, well, what have we here?" a smooth, practiced feminine voice drifted from behind the group.

They turned to face its source and saw a young woman, dark-haired and amber eyes standing at the top of the ramp to nowhere. She was dressed in a skirt made of leather belts and scraps attached together almost haphazardly, and what appeared to be an old hood modified for something like modesty as a top. Though neither garment covered more than was necessary. She walked slowly, confidently down the ramp from the crumbled ruin. As she walked she continued in that quietly powerful but practiced way.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?" she stood some feet away from the group, arms crossed and a fierce expression on her face. "What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?" she demanded.

"Uh, A Grey Warden." Darrian spoke when no one else seemed likely to, "Looking for Grey Warden property."

Alistair spoke to them quietly, "Be careful, she looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby."

"Oooh," the woman tossed her hands in the air, whether amused or annoyed it was hard to say, "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

Alistair frowned at her, "Yes, swooping is bad."

Daveth cringed, the first real fear he had shown as long as Darrian had known him, "She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She'll turn us into toads!"

"Witch of the Wilds?" the smooth practiced tone had returned to her voice, "Such idles fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own? You there. Elves are not frightened little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

This woman was confident that this group of soldiers should be scared of her, and he was certain she thought she knew something they wanted to know. His sister was the one who won people over with her words. She had tried to impart that skill to him saying 'Know your audience. Be they romantic or practical, greedy or smug you can separate them from their money.'. "... Darrian, a pleasure to meet you."

The woman uncrossed her arms in near surprise, " Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the wilds. You may call me Morrigan. Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something that in that chest, something that is here no longer?"

"Well, that was what I was looking at when you walked up." Darrian looked at the crushed chest.

Alistair interrupted, " 'Here no longer?' You stole them, didn't you? You're … some kind of... sneaky... witch-thief!"

"They were _sort of_ abandoned Alistair." Darrian said in a calming voice.

"We always intended to return, it just took longer than we thought." Alistair was quick to defend the Grey Wardens. His voice held some amount of authority when he addressed Morrigan next, "Regardless, those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them."

Morrigan sneered at him, "I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened." she ended with a sweet, bored sound in her voice.

Darrian felt the corner of his mouth twitch, "Right, do you know who has them now?"

"'Tis my Mother, in fact." Morrigan answered crossing her arms again petulantly.

"Your mother?" the answer caught Darrian off guard.

"Yes my mother." She was definitely annoyed now, "Did you assume I spawned from a log?"

"A thieving, weird-talking log, perhaps." Alistair grinned.

Darrian interjected himself before the conversation completely derailed, "No, just... I've asked that before and the answer has never been "my mother". Can you take us to her?"

"If you wish. 'Tis not far from here, and you may ask her for your papers, if you like."

Alistair spoke to the group, "We should get those treaties, but I dislike this... Morrigan's sudden appearance. It's too convenient."

Daveth fidgeted fearfully, "She'll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch."

"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nice change." Ser Jory added, he was not afraid of this Morrigan.

"It's our best lead." Darrian said.

Morrigan turned on her heel and began walking into the wilds, "Follow me, then, if it pleases you."

They followed Morrigan through the forest and it was not long before she led them to an odd hut. It was three levels high, though not directly above one another and the upper levels didn't seem to connect to the lowest at all. They were all were supported above the wet ground by stilts. Just outside an old woman stood as if waiting.

Unlike Morrigan, this woman was clothed in a regular dress that was in fair condition. If her hair had not been wild and a bit ragged and her eyes not so bright and quick she could have passed for a villager somewhere. Though she stood straighter and more steady than she looked like she had the right to.

Morrigan raised her voice as they approached, "Greetings, Mother. I bring before you four Grey Wardens who-"

"I see them girl. Hmm. Much as I expected." her mother looked them over one by one as Morrigan moved to stand a short distance behind her.

Alistair gave a scoffing laugh, "Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?"

"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe," The old woman responded, "Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide... either way, one's a fool!"

Daveth cringed again, "She's a witch, I tell you! We shouldn't be talking to her!"

"Quiet, Daveth!" Ser Jory admonished him, "If she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?"

"There is a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will." She turned her attention fully to Darrian now, "And what of you? Does your elven mind give you a different viewpoint? What do you believe?"

Her gaze held great weight and he wasn't sure what she wanted to hear, "... I believe... you have something that belongs to the Grey Wardens."

"Is that all?" she lifted her hands and let them drop, "Surely your mind stretches farther than these surroundings? So much about you is uncertain... and yet I believe." she paused and spoke in wonder as if to herself, "Do I? Why, it seems I do!"

Alistair smiled, crossed his arms and leaned closer to Darrian, "So this is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?"

"Witch of the Wilds, eh?" She grinned almost grimly, "Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it! Oh, how she dances under the moon!" she laughed.

Morrigan put her hand to her face as her mother spoke, she sounded tired when she said, "They did not come to listen to your wild tales, mother."

"True, they came for their treaties, yes?" she refocused on the conversation, "And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these."

She turned and grabbed the scrolls off a log near the door. Evidently, she had been expecting them.

"You... oh." Alistair started, confused, "You protected them?"

"And why not?" she answered as she handed them to Darrian, "Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize!"

"How do you know about this?" Darrian took the scrolls from her.

"Do I?" she was amused, unfocused again, "Perhaps I am simply an old woman with a penchant for moldy parchments." she laughed nearly heartily, "Oh, do not mind me." she began to calm down, "You have what you came for!"

Morrigan spoke up again, relieved, "Time for you to go then."

"Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests." her mother addressed her directly, looking at her for the first time since they arrived.

"Oh, very well." Morrigan sighed, "I will show you out of the woods. Follow me."

Once again she began to walk without waiting for them to respond, but they were quick to follow.


	18. Paths Cross

**Paths Cross**

Anna sat on the edge of the ruin with her legs dangling over the side. This section was a broad walkway, open toward the wilds and walled-off towards the camp. The wall served to muffle the noise of the camp and give her some peace. She kicked the edge of the wall with the heel of her new boots as she thought. She was contemplating the now familiar domed roofs of the sinking ruins visible just above the trees and the odd angles at which they jutted out. They must have been built on solid ground. When did this place change so much, how long had it taken?

"It's a nice view." the voice of an elven youth caused her to start and turn toward its source.

She stared at him with wide eyes, and he stared back, almost as surprised. Her eyes had caught him, but she barely knew where to look. He was young, only a bit older than she, and outfitted in leather armor inlaid with a leafy motif. All she could think for a moment was how his short burgundy hair set off his dark green eyes, and how his stance, leaning against the pillar next to her, was at once disarming and designed to impress.

She realized that she should say something but was still not used to being addressed by those neither mage nor Templar and was uncertain how to react. Eventually, she gathered herself enough to answer with quiet hesitance, "... Yes, it is."

She cringed mentally. In the circle she was a powerful and talented, if quirky, mage. She had walked the halls with the confidence of one in total control, uncaring of the opinions of others, unafraid of their thoughts or reactions. She would sneer at how her fellows cowered and bowed. Now, having gained the outside world she finds herself as cringing and uncertain as any of those she had dismissed while in the Circle.

He saw only an exceedingly shy girl with rare blue eyes. Wide and cool, they revealed her shock. As she calmed they warmed, they observed him and pulled him in. For one surreal moment, he had the feeling that all the world was an illusion and the only reality was in those eyes, that he was only real in those eyes.

After a short silence, Anna forced herself to speak, "...Are you... Dalish?"

Darrian snapped back to the present at the sound of her voice, he straightened up from the column he had been leaning against and looked at down his own armor, "Ah, no, not really, I was just with them for a while, a while back. I'm a Grey Warden... recruit. I'm Darrian... Tabris, by the way." He and held out his hand in greeting.

She looked at his offered hand blankly and answered softly, "...I am called Anna."

She pulled her legs up under her and stood using the time and motion to collect herself, "You're from a city then? You have a very good bearing."

"Uh... Thanks?" He watched as she stood, confident even at the edge of the wall, straightened her ill-fitting dress and look back to him thoughtfully. Something tugged at his memories, something about her ears or maybe her eyes. The way she held her mouth? "You're not from Denerim are you?"

"No." She offered him a small, sly grin, "But I am no Dalish."

Darrian returned the grin unconsciously, "Ya know, you remind me of someone."

The statement startled her, no one had recognized her features beyond simply elvish or different. Perhaps he knew where her people were. In her confusion, her hesitance returned and she blushed slightly, "I... do?"

"Yeah," he said thoughtfully, as though trying to remember. He looked her up and down again, "I don't know though... So where you from?"

She lowered her eyes, sagging slightly when she realized he _didn't_ know.

"Well," She sighed, "If I'm not from the city and I'm not from the Dalish..."

"You're not a serving girl," Darrian scratched the back of his head as he took the line of thought, "No ladies maid either... and those aren't your clothes, so..." as he studied her, her expression of shy disappointment changed. Her mouth turned up into a mischievous, smug smile, her back straight and her head tilted proudly. It was a posture that looked natural on her. "Only elves here that aren't workers would be Grey Wardens or... a Mage?"

Her smile broadened and her sparkling eyes brightened, "Well, you're cleverer than you sound, Mr. Tabris. And I am perhaps less so than I thought. I had hoped to go undiscovered a bit longer."

"Well, you led me to it." Darrian replied almost shyly, he didn't get compliments often.

"Now that you have found out all my secrets, why don't you tell me the origin of your armor," her luminous eyes caught the light again, drawing him in, "How did you end up with the Dalish," she asked with an earnest quiet voice.

"Oh, well, It's stupid really," He was still embarrassed about his mistakes in the city and wounded by the ones with the Dalish. But, maybe, he wanted to talk to someone.

He told of how he had been wrapped up in the killing of a guard and his flight from the city. Of being found by Lyna and Tamlen. The cave, the mirror, and his foolishness around that. He kept the story short and as to the facts as he could.

"...So I agreed to come here. I had to get out of there but... I don't know, maybe this time it will work out." Darrian shrugged awkwardly.

As he finished Anna broke eye contact to look back to the wilds, "There's a good story in there. A youth tossed from one disaster to another, despair, guilt, desperation."

"... If you say so. All I see is a bunch of stupid kids getting in trouble." Darrian mumbled, he hadn't thought his telling revealed enough for her to get that much out of it.

"A disproportionate number of stories are just that." she grinned, "Your story has potential. Perhaps, you would be willing to tell me more sometime?"

"There really isn't much more to it... I really should be going." He was reluctant to leave, "Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Perhaps," Anna frowned at something behind him.

Darrian turned around to see a Templar, marching towards them with a thunderous expression.

"Well." Anna breathed darkly, "It looks like my game's up."

"There you are Anna." The Knight-Captain ignored Darrian completely, "You've tried to make fools of us again, have you? It's not enough to slip away from us here, you are also guilty of fleeing the circle itself!"

"I think you have that backward." Anna said helpfully, he had not mentioned anything about helping a blood mage or being one, so she was feeling rather relieved.

This only infuriated the Knight-Captain, he grabbed her arm and pulled her up next to him as he started walking back to the mages enclosure. Anna was not surprised by the rough treatment, given the circumstances, and as he still had to permit her to see the King she went along quietly. "I don't know what you were up to, coming here, but you'll be returning as soon as we can spare someone. The gall you have to run from us there and come here as if-"

Darrian didn't have the patience Anna had. He stepped out in front of the Templar in a fighting stance, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Hey! She's just trying to fight the darkspawn like everyone else here. There's no reason to treat her like that!"

"You really _don't_ make good de-" Anna spoke to him from the Templar's grip.

"Don't get involved you little... urchin," the Knight-Commanders growl interrupted her, "it's not your place to tell me how to treat my mages."

"Perhaps it isn't," King Cailans voice, hard and grim, called out from in front of them. The path from her introspection spot to the mages enclave led right past the Kings tent and he stood outside of it now, glaring at the commotion. "But as it happens I sent for this one."

Darrian relaxed his stance and the Templar paused for a moment.

"Forgive me, your majesty," the Knight-Commander searched for the proper words and inflection, "But this is an escaped mage. As a Templar-"

"She doesn't look escaped to me." King Cailan looked at Anna, her arm held at an uncomfortable angle due to the difference in the height between her and the knight.

"But, your majesty, this behavior-"

"It seems your behavior is more the problem. _She_ isn't resisting." Cailan continued, "On the other hand I sent for this mage and now she is here. I'll be sure to return her when our business is concluded."

The Templar wasn't sure how to proceed, he was fairly positive that his orders _should_ outweigh the Kings but didn't know how to proceed without angering him. "If... If you insist on this meeting a Templar must be present." he relented releasing Anna's arm.

"You can stand outside if you wish." King Cailan motioned Anna into his tent.

As the thick fabric fell behind her Anna felt as if she were in another world. The sounds of camp were muffled nicely and the king's furnishings, though sparse enough for a battle tent, were colorful and bore gilded highlights.

"I suppose you've heard rumors about the upcoming battle?" King Cailan spoke as he walked around her and sat on his bed so that he could look her in the face. His tone was unlike any she had heard him use before, serious and grave.

"I have heard some, your majesty." Anna answered still unsure of herself in this situation.

"The darkspawn horde draws closer and my forces are not arriving as quickly as they were promised." The King sighed in frustration, "It seems as if many were unforeseeably delayed. They may arrive in time but... it doesn't look promising. Without those men my strategy may not work, and yet it is the best plan to save the greater part of Ferelden from the coming blight.

"I can not remove my self from the battle and yet I must survive for the stability of the country. It's beginning to look like I may require the service you offered." He ended gravely.

"If I may ask, your majesty." Anna ventured tentatively, "why can't you remove yourself? If it's so important for you to live."

"I am the King." His usual playful arrogance lit up his face as he answered and faded as he continued, "I have to bolster the morale of my men. I also have to keep the darkspawn focused on the ruins. They must be interested and they must be distracted so that they can be blindsided. They need a shiny trophy to egg them on."

There was a thoughtful silence, then King Cailan asked brightly, "So, I will be using your spell after all."

"Of course." Now that she was in familiar territory her scholarly, almost imperious tone returned, "I have been working on the spell and have sufficiently prepared the phylactery. There are two parts to the spell, two spells working in unison. Once it is complete it may feel a bit... noticeable, as one spell is held in potential by the other. It may... hum. The spells _will_ work, but it is no guarantee that you will live."

"Understood. What do you need me to do?" He asked gravely.

"Hold the phylactery in your bare hands and recite after me." Anna removed the empty bauble from her neck.

As the sun set below the walls of the ruins Duncan had Alistair gather the Warden recruits together in the elevated round area opposite the War counsel room. Alistair stood to one side arms crossed and leaning on a pillar while Ser Jory paced and grumbled.

"The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it."

"Are you blubbering again?" Daveth sneered at him.

"Why all these damned tests?" He stopped pacing, "Have I not earned my place?"

"I don't think this is a test." Darrian crossed his arms and looked at the ground with a frown.

"What else is it then?" Ser Jory turned on him worry making him snappish.

"We've proven we can face the darkspawn. That was a test." Darrian looked at him without raising his head, "You heard Duncan, he had to take the blood to the mages. And Alistair said Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. This is a ritual, it's magic."

"Duncan indicated that this was dangerous-"

"So is fighting darkspawn, or anything." Darrian interrupted.

"You saw those darkspawn, Ser knight." Daveth added, "Wouldn't you die to protect your pretty wife from them?"

"I..."

"Maybe we'll die. Maybe we'll all die." Daveth continued, feeling his line of logic, "If nobody stops the darkspawn, we'll die for sure."

"I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade." Ser Jory deflated slightly.

Duncan appeared at the entrance holding a large silver chalice.

"At last we come to the Joining." His voice was low as he approached, "The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint."

He came to a stop in front of the group.

"We're..." Ser Jory shifted from one foot to another, "going to drink the blood of those... those creatures?"

"You hadn't figured that out?" Darrian lifted his head.

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you. _This_ is the source of our power and our victory." Duncan continued, reciting an old well-worn speech.

Alistair added, "Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon."

"We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been sad since the first. Alistair, if you would?"

Alistair lowered his head in solemnity "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn."

Ser Jory looked from Alistair to the cup and back as he spoke.

"And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you."

When Alistair finished, he and Duncan raised their heads and Duncan lifted the cup in his hands, "Daveth, step forward."

Daveth complied, taking the chalice when it was offered and drank of the dark liquid without hesitation.

Duncan took the chalice back and stepped back. Daveth wove on his feet, stumbling in place before he cried out, grasping his head and turned his eyes, now pupilless to the others. He grasped his throat gasping for breath and collapsed to the ground.

"Maker's breath!" Ser Jory gasped backing away from Daveth.

"I am sorry, Daveth." Duncan watched as his gasping stopped and his body stilled on the floor. His manner had changed since the ritual began. He was no longer a grim but warm leader, his voice was monotone his manor deliberate. "Step forward, Jory."

"But..." Ser Jory pulled his sword from its place on his back and held it defensively as he backed up, away from the chalice, "I have a wife. A child! Had I known..."

"There is no turning back." Duncan said grimly.

"No! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!" Ser Jory continued to back away.

Duncan handed the cup to Alistair and drew his dagger. Jory stepped forward and swung against him. Duncan blocked the blow with his dagger and used the momentum to toss it aside. Before Ser Jory could recover to bring his blade back, Duncan stabbed him. His blade piercing the weak point in the other man's armor.

Ser Jory gasped as his body realized it was dying.

"I am sorry." Duncan said as he pulled the blade out.

Ser Jory collapsed to the floor, holding his stomach. One more gasp and his body stilled.

"The Joining is not yet complete." Duncan wiped his blade and sheathed it. Then he retrieved the chalice from Alistair.

"You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good." He handed the chalice to Darrian.

Darrian looked from Ser Jory's body, blood spreading on the stone floor, to the cup. This was why he was here, this was his cure, his chance.

He took the cup and drank.


	19. The Battle of Ostagar

**The Battle of Ostagar**

The day the horde arrived was cold, damp and gray. The king's army had gathered at the "gates of Ostagar", the area under the bridge that Cailan had scouted out earlier. That was the place that the ruins guarded, the best place to leave the southern lands for miles around. Loghain's forces were out in the forest, gathered for the battle, hidden from the natural path the darkspawn would likely take.

Anna had been assigned to the forces on the wall itself. If anything were to happen to the King, only she and a note in his tent could explain the spell. So she had to survive, she had to stay safe and out of the fighting. She had been given a place on the reinforced gatehouse to observe the battle below so she wouldn't be completely in the dark. The gatehouse had been further modified with scaffolding to support troops. This was the route of retreat for the army if it came to that. If it came to that Anna was to retreat as well, and return for his body.

"A storms coming." Next to her, the dark-haired archer called Hawke folded her arms on the ancient battlement.

Anna looked up, "I wonder."

"Pretty sure it's a storm. How long were you in that tower?" Hawke gave her a crooked grin.

"Too long," Anna frowned at her, she was still in plain clothes as the mage robes hadn't been finished in time. But Hawke was one of the kings own men and knew something of their arrangement. She herself was here under orders to close the gates to keep the darkspawn from hindering any retreat. They were possibly the only ones on this wall to know of the king's doubts, "I wonder if it's following the darkspawn?"

"It... rains a lot around here." Hawke answered, at Anna's silence she added, "You ready to run?"

"If it comes to that." she said darkly.

Hawk considered her for a moment, "Your orders are to live, right?"

Anna sighed and nodded.

"Then that's what you have to do, try not to blow anyone up while doing it alright?"

"Wheres the fun in that?" Anna asked in a wistful tone and Hawk laughed.

"Let's just hope the storm blows over first." Hawke added, returning her attention to the field, "I don't really want to fight in the rain."

Despite Hawke's hopes, the darkspawn blew in with the storm, the light was swallowed by the thunderhead as it rolled and coiled above the ruins. They were a wall of corruption, looking every bit like an army of rotting corpses, smelling foul and roaring like demons.

The king's archers let loose on the darkspawn forces, then the war dogs were set forth and then their men. Then all melee broke loose. On the wall and from the bridge archers shot deep into the darkspawn lines. But the darkspawn were not animals and had brought their own machines of war. Flaming rocks, hurled from the rear of the horde, struck the age-worn sides of the ruins. The walls held well, gaining only superficial damage. The bridge suffered worse, losing chunks, but still it stood. The humans however, the living beings on and in these structures could not stand up as well as stone to the impacts.

When one of these stones struck the gatehouse and sent a concussion throughout the structure Anna was pushed backward on the scaffold. The breath was forced out of her, she could not steady herself in time and she plummeted toward the ground, her eyes to the roiling sky, loose hairs trailing past her face, stones loosened by the impact joined her fall. She fell heavy, hit hard and

she falls up, face down, charged wind pressing her up into the burning sky, jagged purple rocks below twisting and writhing, now the field of battle, now the rain-drenched forest floor, now the smooth stone highway. She stops her mind, and so she stops. She is in the Fade.

The wind, a silent unrelenting sourceless force of the fade, presses harder now, but she stills herself. Motionless in void, for there is no air, she can feel terrible trimmers reverberating through the existence around her.

She seeks and sees:

Her dreamer's domain is surrounded, more closely then she could ever remember, with the domains of other dreamers. The domains of those brought close through shared experience, the battle. These are the humans, the warriors whom she had watched while awake, and thought herself apart from. The mages _are_ there, beyond the warriors, and the elves are even farther away, distant from the battle, distant from her. Just who are her kith?

She seeks and sees:

These individual domains so close together are as a field of soap bubbles, the thin shimmering domes protection from the incessant winds of the fade and those that dwell within. She sees as with dreadful rapidity, bubbles burst with the sound of battle and spirit wisps are carried fast from inside to that place beyond Knowing. Stars falling up from life and disappearing into the mottled red and yellow "sky" of the fade.

A fearsome, and marvelous sight. The domes are so numerous and lost so quickly, so noisome and bright in their demise, so direful in meaning, she becomes ill, dizzy and light headed. She is compelled to close her eyes. She feels a loosening in her middle. As she opens her eyes, she is already grasping at the end of the delicate silver cord that should have trailed from her navel to her dreamer's domain, her anchor to life. Her own soap bubble trembles beneath her.

The wind is blowing harder, and it is difficult to remember that she is not limited to her physical abilities. That her hands will not sweat, her arms not tire. After a moment, she seeks and sees: The fade has already rearranged itself, domains lost is land lost, drifting away from hers, she is an island again, close to none. The battle is over, the army lost.

But where is the king?

Now she is not alone.

As she clings onto the thin taut cord that is her life against the driving wind, a presence drifts casually to her. The wind does not touch this thing, and no care hurries its movements.

"So, you Are." The strange fore-echo of the spirits slow voice makes unnerving its soft timbre.

"Go away." Anna says between clenched teeth.

"You are out of your domain," The creature floats around from behind her and looks at the connection of cord and hand, "You can not order me here."

Anna looks at it, the form of a child of twelve with small horns at its temples. It has flames on its head in place of hair, flames of blue bleeding to yellow to white. Its skin is a very pale blue. It's pupils like that of a goat, spirit light pouring through. It's irises white, bleeding to blue, to black. What it represents as clothes is a short lacy tunic with ruffled bloomers protruding from underneath and belled sleeves on its arms. Its hands and feet are pale, clean and well-formed.

This is the demon that had stood on a spire during her harrowing, and had watched her through it all.

Anna ignores it.

"It was difficult to find you... long have you been Not." the Demon continues, studying her face.

Anna moves down the cord, hand over hand against the driving wind.

The Demon follows her, "Do you not Know me?"

Anna doesn't answer, she is in no mood to deal with demons. The wind is almost unbearable, her hands are getting numb with cold. The distraction she can deal with, but how long can she hold on to life while unattached to her silver cord?

The Demon drifts in front of her, its face close to hers, "Did I not return enough at the harrowing domain?"

Anna frowns, "What did you return, what did I give to be returned?"

"Your memories." It circles to her back and wraps it's arms around her, holding her wrists and offering some shelter from the wind, it's cheek resting against hers, "You shared them with me, to decorate my Domain. To amuse me."

"I have never spoken to a demon." Anna Knows.

"You never called me a demon." It replies softly, "A fair trade, stories for stories, Knowing for Knowledge. Memories of the world for experience of the Fade."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Anna tries to move her hands, but they are frozen, the cold has progressed up her arms and is beginning to invade her torso.

"I desire you not to dwell here." the demon observes, "The binding perishes." it states.

'Binding?' Anna wonders, and, as the coolness creeps closer to her core, she feels it. The echoing ripple of power furling back to her, an unbridling of her spirit.

Her phylactery... it is dead.

The demon moves one hand from her wrists to her head, "Remember." she whispers, digging her fingers into Anna's hair, "You Know me, you know my Name.

Remember.

A taste of the treasures I hold safe.

Remember."

The wind dies down, the silver cord snaps to her navel and yanks her from Ch'ch's hold.

She is falling again, accelerating toward the Fade's twisting purple matrix. Through the translucent dome, into her Dreamers Domain. She strikes the ground and

opened her eyes to a still, white sky.

It was cold. Colder now than it had been in the Fade. But that was good. Pain was good. It meant life.

Her body may have hurt, but her mind was numb. She knew... she Knew, that Ch'ch had given her memories. They were hers, she Knew. What she did not know was what they were.

Ch'ch was there. In her memory, an... ally perhaps, in the wilds of the Fade. But the specifics were hazy. A dream from long ago.

Ch'ch had held back.

Th'iariel Knew that other memories were there. The _foundations_ of a knowledge, learning to speak, to walk, to dress. Memories rarely remembered, but felt. It was a foundation-

Th'iariel.

Th'iariel.

Her name was Th'iariel!

Th'iariel. Th'iariel.

She had a name. An Elvhen name.

The awe, the soft joy, that swept through her mind and throughout her body at those four flowing syllables.

Th'iariel. Th'iariel. Th'iariel.

She was Elvhen.

The foundations of her being, missing all her life. Stolen, by the sisters of the Chantry in the creche, by time unknown in the soul jewel, was returned to her. Summed up in that affiliation of rolling whispering sounds; her name, her own.

Th'iariel...

Snowflakes tickled her eyelashes, causing her to blink, pulling her away from her reverie. She realized that a thin blanket of snow had fallen while she was unconscious, and more was on its' way. Her extremities were painfully numb as life seemed to be forcing its way back into them. Slowly, through careful movement and mana, she encouraged it.

It made sense now. Her life. The strangeness of humans and of the workings of their world. It had been strange because she had not been learning it as a child might, as she had lived her childhood before. She was living here as a foreign youth, albeit in a body that grew from an infant. She had been raised in a Chantry creche without Elvhen. The Sisters who took care of them and Templars who guarded them, even the other children had been human. But she had always known she was Elvhen. She had still Known some of her experiences, some of her foundations had survived, but faded in the pressure of years and the Sisters' teachings.

Now … perhaps she could remember again.

She could move her arms now, the burning cold appendages protested her efforts to rise.

She could see, as she pulled herself into a crouch, that she was still in the curving gatehouse that connected what had been the King's camp with the bridge. The iron gates had been lowered and wrecked while she had been unconscious. Around her lay the bodies of several darkspawn. No doubt cut down here as they ran after the retreating army.

She took stock of her condition. Her elven peasant dress was in sad shape, torn and stained in mud and blood. Her hair, braided in tight layers on her head was worse, it was unnaturally stiff and made her hand uncomfortable when she touched it. Probably darkspawn blood. Her new boots had thankfully survived with only a few dark stains.

The memories of the battle returned to her. Along with the significance of what she had witnessed in the Fade.

Th'iariel ventured from the high walls slowly, wary of darkspawn, but found none. The battle had been lost but the darkspawn army was still apparently chasing the retreating human forces. Eventually, they would return to claim the encampment and the spoils. She would have to be gone before they did, but first... she had promises to keep. If King Cailan had fallen as well then his essence would be in the bauble in the chest in his tent, if not, then he was fine and Th'iariel wanted her artifact back. The key to the king's trunk was still around her neck. She clutched it as she had the Elvhen bead but it offered no reassurance.

The King's tent had half collapsed on itself. She hurried across the open area and dodged into its gaping entrance. There she found the chest half buried under the collapsed tent, apparently still overlooked by the darkspawn. Th'iariel knelt before the chest and unlocked it. She pushed the snow-covered tent ceiling as far away from the front of the lid as she could and attempted to open it. The lid slipped from her hands and snapped closed.

Th'iariel gave the disagreeable thing a glare before searching the tent for something to help. She found Cailan's shield, a kite shield bearing the heraldry of Theirin rule, two dogs rampant under a crown, one holding an ax the other a scepter. She propped the shield up beside the chest and again forced it open, quickly she slipped the edge of the shield under the lip of the lid and let it rest there. She studied the sturdiness of the situation, then reached her hand into the trunk. She found the bauble first, her hand likely drawn to it by some shared magic.

The moment her fingers brushed across it she knew he was inside, the stirrings of a consciousness was almost painful to her memory and she recoiled. She recovered immediately and grabbed the phylactery pulling it out of the chest and holding it tight in both fists until the desperate turning inside the stone eased.

She could perceive Cailan's thoughts rolling over themselves as he tried to speak.

"Slow down" she whispered, "Think only on what you want to say."

The rolling whispers slowed and finally Cailan's words crystallized in her mind. "Thank the Maker you came, I've been alone with just my thoughts in this ...place."

"Quite alone then" Th'iariel quipped mentally then flinched, who was she to lecture the king about thought control when she let this out, "Sorry, sorry, what happened? I was … knocked out early."

"Loghain betrayed me!" words were lost in emotion, flashes of memories, some from years past. It was dizzying until one thing became clear.

"Crushed!" Th'iariel started, "You were crushed?"

The thoughts focused again, "An ogre lifted me up and squeezed, my armor failed, and I was here, in this blasted nothingness."

Th'iariel leaned against the trunk, shocked. Healing wasn't her school, but from what she remembered, crush damage was very hard to heal even when the person was alive.

"Am I dead?" Cailan asked worryingly calmly.

"Nothing is certain," Th'iariel said as reassuringly as she could manage, "we always needed a healer."

"Are there none?"

"Ostagar is lost. Everyone has moved on." Th'iariel put the bauble around her neck again, making sure it contacted her skin so that the connection with Cailan wouldn't be lost. "We should get moving as well."

"Fathers sword." Came the hurried response, "And my letters."

"... How important..." Th'iariel eyed the heavily weighed down lid.

"It's my Fathers sword." Cailan stressed, "And those letters - it's important."

Th'iariel sighed and again knelt before the chest. At least now it was open enough for her to get a proper grip on it, though as short as she was she decided that pushing it open was better than trying to lift it. The tent protested the movement and it was not an easy thing, but she eventually managed to open the chest wide. Inside she immediately saw the sword, deep purple dragonbone with glowing dwarven runes etched along the blade. It was wide and shaped a bit like a wicked leaf, curving out once in the middle and out again at the tip before diving into a shallow point.

"That's it?" Th'iariel considered it for a moment. It had lyrium in it, and that made her cautious.

"What do you mean by that? It's a fine blade." Cailan defended his father's weapon.

"You didn't use it." Th'iariel reached for the hilt.

"Well, it's not my style." Cailan used a great sword in combat.

Th'iariel lifted the sword and caught her reflection in it as she did so. For a moment, she was surprised that her reflection didn't surprise her. In the dark shine of dragonbone she couldn't see clearly the mess she certainly was, but she could make out the darkish red markings on her face. There were four dots between the point of her cheekbone and edge of her eye sockets paralleling the curve of her eye. There was a delicate line leading up from a point on the tip of her nose and thickening slightly as it traveled to just above her eyebrows, where it split into to lines in a meandering representation of a young creatures antlers, narrowing and splitting twice more before ending. Between them and just below halfway up her forehead was a flame, with three points, the middle one the highest. She knew that another thin arch was hidden under her eyebrows.

"When did that happen?" Cailan asked curiously.

"When I was out, I imagine... can you see me?" Th'iariel asked.

"I seem to be able to see through your eyes. Is that right? Is it supposed to work this way." Cailan asked.

"I don't know." Th'iariel held the sword up, using both her hands. "I don't remember anything of my time in there. It's not a bad blade," she returned to her scrutiny of the sword, "but it's so wide. And long. I don't think I could handle it."

She perceived what she could only feel as a mental snickering from Cailan. "What... Oh," she wrinkled her nose, a bit embarrassed but glad no one would see her blush, "Are you as immature as that?"

"I'm trapped in a formless void, I shall take my humor where I can. And you are a mage, I would not expect you to wield it."

"I guess not." Th'iariel put the sword aside and looked through the trunk for the papers he wanted. As he could identify the bundle the search was over quickly. She stood, sword in hand, shield on her back, papers in her bodice. "Now for your body."

"Assuming they haven't disposed of it already." Cailan attempted to remain light, "You do realize you couldn't possibly carry me?"

"As you pointed out, I am a mage." Th'iariel said, equal parts dismissal and pride, "We deal in impossibilities. Anyway, I doubt they would have had the time yet."

She made her way down to the battleground pausing to examine any snow-covered bodies that were about the king's size.

"We must have reduced their ranks." Cailan thought solemnly.

"They are not all human bodies." Th'iariel agreed.

"There," Cailan attempted to indicate, "This is the place I was grabbed."

Th'iariel concentrated her efforts in the area and found him some feet away laying on his back. She knelt and began brushing the snow off of his body and found he had been stripped down to his woolen undergarments.

"The bastards stole my armor!" Cailan seethed.

"The armor that failed you." Th'iariel clarified.

"Only to a foe no one had faced before this blight." Cailan defended the honor of his armor. He calmed down, almost pouting, "It was fine armor and that hardly matters. It's... disrespectful."

"It's better this way," Th'iariel mumbled, almost to herself as she closed his cloudy eyes not thinking about the ramifications. To Cailan she said, "I wouldn't be able to move you _and_ your armor, and I'm glad not to have the chore of removing it."

As she spoke she felt a shadow come across her back. She twisted around in her crouch, sword held with both hands it's tip against the ground and hilt held high, she barely managed to block a blow from a genlock. Its blade was blocked but Th'iariel's twisted position gave the putrid attacker the advantage. He leaned on the swords trapping her in the position and lifted one hand to strike her as she arranged her thoughts to Mind Blast him, without losing focus on her hold on the sword. A snarling growl was the only warning they had before the solid body of a mabari hound threw itself into the darkspawn and ripped into its throat.

Th'iariel sat back panting.

"Well, that was fortunate." Cailan observed. "Nice block, given the ungainliness of the sword of course."

"Thanks." Th'iariel mumbled and watched as the animal dispatched the blighted creature. She would wait for the dog to acknowledge her before she decided on how fortunate his appearance was.

The dog stopped its mauling once he was sure his opponent was dead. He turned, looked at her then trooped happily up to her and sat nicely, paws together, waiting to be acknowledged.

"Hello," She introduced herself carefully, "I'm Th'iariel, ...Th'iariel Adulin, that's King Cailan." she indicated the body behind her.

The dog dipped its head once.

"What's your name?" she asked on a whim because she thought she should.

"You can't expe-" Cailan started incredulously.

Another thought, more an impression entered their joined minds. His name was Hunter.

"Holy Maker, what was...?" Cailan was shocked silent.

"I'm Elvhen," Th'iariel said, nearly as shocked but unwilling to let Cailan know, "sometimes we understand." It must have been one of the skills that she remembered from... the time before. "Well Hunter, would you like to help me get Cailan back to civilization?"

Hunter bobbed his head, barked and danced in a circle.

"Sh, sh, sh," Th'iariel encouraged silence, "We don't want to draw any more attention. Now, I need to find a wagon or pallet, something to put his body on."

Hunter barked, danced in a circle and ran off.

"He'll find one, mabari are amazing animals." Cailan was confident.

Th'iariel returned to preparing his body, "Right now... we need to wrap you. … I'll need to go back to the camp I think."

"Sounds-" a loud bark interrupted Cailan's thought.

"Hunters back." Th'iariel looked towards the bark.

"Obviously."

"I'm just... surprised, that's all." Th'iariel watched the large dog dragging a wooden cot with some tent material attached to it. "That's perfect! We can get better wrappings later but this should work." she rubbed Hunters head and neck, "That's a good boy!"

Hunter grinned proudly and leaned into her attention.

She made quick work of wrapping Cailan up in the canvas, draping some material so it looked less like a body. She included his father's sword in the folds, it was too heavy for her and the lyrium irritated her. Hunter ran back and forth grabbing more canvas scraps and rope and whatever else the dog thought would be useful.

"Humans are heavy." Th'iariel complained pushing his massive legs into place on the makeshift pallet.

"One must be well muscled in order to wear plate effectively." Cailan explained.

"If you had been into light armor I wouldn't have used so much energy just now." Th'iariel leaned against his inert mass for a moment. His body was not warm nor exactly cold. It was unsettling.

She stood, "Well, let's get moving." she paused to take stock of her situation.

While she had been arranging Cailan's body, Hunter had brought her an arrangement of items he apparently thought would be useful. It was now time to see if she agreed. On the ground lay a ragged chain shirt, a torn human-sized cloak with a deep hood, and a long dagger with no sheath. The cloak was black, stiffened with gore and it stank.

Between the darkspawn that undoubtedly ran throughout the surrounding area and the biting damp cold that the storm had brought with it, Th'iariel was left with little choice but to equip the chain shirt over her poor dress and don the stinking cloak against the cold. At least the cloak was warm.

She stuck the dagger through her belt on her left hip, if nothing else she could sell it. Hunter was eager to be of assistance and stood dutifully still as she attached the pallet with Cailan's body on it to him.

"So, to Lothering then." Th'iariel and Hunter started north.

"To Redcliffe." Cailan pronounced, "My Uncle is the Arl there. He will aid us and we can see if there is more to Loghain's abandonment than cowardice."


	20. Wardens Endure

**AN:** I want to thank everyone who has shown interest in this story, especially those who have reviewed. The last month has had its difficulties but I am writing again. My profile page is updated regularly if your ever interested in what is going on at the moment. Please let me know if you enjoy a chapter or what you think about characters characterizations or journey if you can.

 **Grey Wardens Endure**

Darrian came to consciousness as he sat up, prepared to fight his dream, but the warmly lit room and savory smell of cooking stew stopped him still. The blanket that had been draped over him fell to his waist revealing bandages crisscrossing over his torso.

"Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased." a familiar smooth voice snaked to him from elsewhere.

He looked up from the bandages to find the source of the voice and saw Morrigan approaching his bed.

"What … happened?" Darrian rubbed his neck.

"I am Morrigan, lest you have forgotten. And we are in the Wilds, where I am bandaging your wounds." she explained as if to a child, "You are welcome, by the way. How does your memory fare? Do you remember Mother's rescue?"

Darrian shook his head, right now he couldn't tell what was memory and what was dream, "The battle... They sent us up the tower to man a signal fire, it was full of darkspawn. We lit the signal but the darkspawn... they overwhelmed us. I passed out."

"Mother managed to save you and your friend, though 'twas a close call. What is important is that you both live." she explained patiently and not without sympathy, "The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend... he is not taking it well."

"... um, Alistair? The tall blonde guy?"

"The suspicious, dim-witted one who was with you before, yes." she nearly grinned before returning a softer sound to her voice, "He is outside by the fire. Mother asked to see you when you awoke."

"Thank you, Morrigan." Darrian grabbed his armor.

"I..." she lifted one hand to object, her practiced smug detachment momentarily dropped, "you are welcome, though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer."

She left him to dress in private and he found that whatever wounds the darkspawn had inflicted were gone now. Morrigan's mother must have been a good healer.

When he left the hut he could see Alistair looking out into the sunset with Morrigan's mother watching him nearby. She noticed him quickly and addressed Alistair petulantly.

"See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man."

Alistair turned to Darrian, "You... you're alive! I thought you were dead for sure."

"I thought we were both finished back there." Darrian tried to grin.

Alistair exhaled speaking softly, "hho. This doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad." the woman chastised him.

Alistair turned to her, apologetically, "I didn't mean... but what do we call you? You never told us your name."

"Names are pretty, but useless." She dismissed, continuing, "The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do."

Alistair shifted slightly in his stance, " _The_ Flemeth from the legends? Daveth was right—you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

"And what does that mean?" Flemeth snapped, " I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?"

"It doesn't matter Alistair," Darrian started to pace and rubbed the back of his neck, "What do we do now?"

"We need to bring Loghain to judgment!" Alistair offered, "Why would he do this?"

"Now _that_ is a good question." Flemeth said voice low, "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

"The archdemon." Alistair sneered.

Darrian stopped pacing, "What _is_ a archdemon?"

Flemeth answered, "It is said that, long ago, the Maker sent the Old Gods of the ancient Tevinter Imperium to slumber in prisons deep beneath the surface. An archdemon is an Old God awakened and tainted by darkspawn. Believe that or not, history says it's a fearsome and immortal thing. And only fools ignore history."

"... We need more Grey Wardens." Darrian looked to Alistair.

"Cailan already summoned them." Alistair answered darkly, "They'll come if they can. But I don't know how to contact them, or if they're even on their way. We have to assume won't arrive in time. We need to do something now... If Arl Eamon knew what he did, he would never stand for it! The Landsmeet would never stand for it!" he was suddenly animated again.

"Who is Arl Eamon?" Darrian was having a hard time keeping up.

"The Arl of Redcliffe and Cailan's uncle. He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet." Alistair continued to gain energy, "He wasn't at Ostagar; he still has all his men! Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"

"What's a Landsmeet?" Darrian put his hands to his head.

"It's a gathering of Lords." Alistair started to calm down, "I still don't know if Arl Eamon's help would be enough. He can't defeat the darkspawn horde by himself."

Darrian squatted down, still holding his head.

"You have more at your disposal than you think." Flemeth prodded.

"Of course!" Alistair was again energized, "The treaties!"

"Treaties?" Darrian asked weakly.

"The scrolls Duncan had us get from the wilds." Alistair explained, "Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages, and other places! They're obligated to help us during a Blight!"

Darrian lifted his head, "Do we have them?"

"We do. Duncan had me hold them for safe keeping. Since I was kept out of the battle."

"I may be old," Flemeth crossed her arms and smirked, "but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else... this sounds like an army to me."

"Yeah, assuming they listen to us at all." Darrian stood, "If we can get one to listen others will probably follow." his sister had taught him that too.

"So you are set, then?" Flemeth wore a small grin, "Ready to be Grey Wardens?"

"I guess so." Darrian looked to Alistair who nodded.

"Now... Before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you."

The offer turned out to be an order. For the help she had given them, for the sake of the cause, she would have her daughter join them. Morrigan was less than thrilled, as was Alistair who believed that having an apostate along would complicate things. Darrian accepted her help in getting out of the wilds at least.

Morrigan led Darrian and Alistair north through the wilds. They picked their way around groups of hunting darkspawn and the sodden land that threatened to steal their boots. It was a quiet march. After the energy that came with making the decision to use the treaties and Morrigan's addition to the group, Alistair had fallen silent. That was good for the journey through enemy populated land. But it didn't seem natural for Alistair.

Darrian was used to rolling with the punches life sent his way and had been since his mother was killed. Right now he was still rolling. Alistair though, he had known those who fell at Ostagar and had clearly idolized Duncan. He didn't seem to know how to roll.

They had been forced to avoid the roads for the majority of the journey. When they did finally rejoin the highway just south of Lothering, they found themselves facing a blockade. Five lightly armored men were lounging around upturned carts and boxes.

As they approached one stood and moved to intercept them, quick, cheerful and nasal he called out to his men, "Wake up, gentlemen! More travelers to attend to."

His fellows stood, two took places at his sides as they came to stand only a few feet away from the Wardens on the elevated road. A great-sword to his left and an oaf with a shield and sword to his right. The last two stayed back but didn't bother to ready their crossbows.

A thick slow looking fellow with an impressive under-bite came up to stand off to the right, close to his leader, "Err... they don't look much like them others, you know. Uh... maybe we should just let these ones pass..."

"Nonsense!" the leader pressed on, raising his arms in a friendly manner, "Greetings, travelers!"

Alistair frowned, and spoke to his group quietly, "Highwaymen. Preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose."

Morrigan sneered, and made no attempt to be quiet, "They are fools to get in our way. I say teach them a lesson."

"Now is that any way to greet someone? Tsk, tsk, tsk." The leader clicked his tongue, he looked to Alistair and stated, "A simple ten silvers and you're free to move on."

"Forget it." Darrian spoke quickly, "We're not paying you thugs anything."

"Well, I can't say I'm pleased to hear that. We have rules, you know." The leader looked from Alistair to Darrian and back.

"Right." the slow oaf reached for the sword on his back, "We get to ransack your corpse, then. Those are the rules."

Darrian grinned and flexed his fingers, "Great, been a while since I beat up some shems."

He balled his fist and slugged the leader who was reaching for the sword on his back. Darrian brought up his shield to deflect a blow from the great-sword man on his left as the leader stumbled backward and fell. Darrian kept the bandit between himself and the crossbows and grabbed his sword from his back.

Alistair was fighting the oaf and Morrigan seemed to be making gestures behind them. Darrian used the motion of unsheathing to strike the oaf in the kidney with his pommel while great-sword recovered from the miss. The oaf flinched and Alistair got the upper hand.

With the leader still on the ground, the great-sword bandit moved to bring his weapon down on Darrian. As he spun out of the way he heard the great-sword struck the stones of the road. Darrian finished his spin by the bringing his blade slicing through the great-sword man's unarmored neck as he was recovering from his missed blow. The strength of the momentum decapitated him smoothly.

Darrian saw one crossbowman fall to the ground a few paces behind the melee. The oaf fell and Alistair stepped over him to knock the leader, who only now rejoined the fight, with his shield. He remained standing but was stuck in defense.

Darrian rushed forward, running the last crossbowman through, his sharp elven blade making use of the weakness of the bandit's poor armor.

The leader threw down his sword and shield and dropped to his knees, holding his hands up, "All right! We surrender! We-we-we're just trying to get by before the darkspawn get us all!"

Alistair pulled back on the blow he was preparing that would have likely killed him.

Darrian swung around, pointing his sword at the man's face for emphasis. He nearly shouted, "Get by? You're taking from people who left everything behind to run for their lives! You attacked soldiers. We have better equipment than you!"

This confused the man and he let his arms drop a bit, "...Yes. Yes! Of … of course! We should've been more careful. I'm sorry."

"You're the only one left you know." Darrian put the tip of his sword under the man's chin and brought him to his feet with it, "Give me everything you've stolen."

"Yes! Yes, of course. The coins we collected are right here... just over a hundred silvers." he handed over a fairly full purse, "The rest is in the chests we brought! I swear!"

"Good. Now strip."

"What?" the man faltered.

"I want your armor and weapons. You can keep the under things." Darrian clarified.

The man was quick to oblige and Darrian lowered his sword when he stood there bereft of anything that would make him dangerous.

"Get running before I hamstring you and leave you for the darkspawn." Darrian snarled as he placed his sword in its sheath on his back.

"Bless you!" the man called out as he ran away, "The darkspawn can have this place!"

Alistair looked from the nearly naked man running for the hills back to Darrian, "What... was that?"

"Huh, there's well over a gold in silver here." Darrian did a rough count of the coins in the purse, "I've never had this much money at once before." He tied the purse to his belt and started to search the dead the bandits.

"What are you doing?" Alistair balked.

"Is it not the saying "to the victor goes the spoils"." Morrigan grinned.

It was battlefield etiquette in Ferelden. The weapons of the fallen were to be taken, to keep out of the hands of the enemy, but everything else was to be left with the dead out of respect for your foe. Agents of the Chantry would then claim anything of value that couldn't be returned to the family to fund their good works.

Darrian moved to the boxes, "Look, we need money Alistair. Unless you have some hidden on you. Look, I'll make a donation at the Chantry before we go alright?"

Alistair shook his head and moved to the top of the ramp to Lothering and looked down at the village while the others went through the bandit's chests. He knew Darrian had been a thief, and Morrigan an opportunist, and he had witnessed technically less moral behavior while a warden. It still irked him to have to put up with this behavior. Still, Darrian seemed to be sticking to just the weapons and money so it wasn't that bad. When the others caught up to him, he gave a happy little sigh, "Well, there it is, Lothering. Pretty as a painting."

For such a small town the Chantry was a large building. It towered over the single-story dwellings and set the style of building for the rest of the town. Stone foundations supporting walls of bright white stucco and dark timbers, though only the Chantry sported colorful stained glass windows. An old stone wall hugged the southern edge of town and Darrian noticed that it had been fortified since he passed through on the way to Ostagar. Now its southern face had pointy wooden logs outside and there were basic watch towers just inside the gate. What looked like a refugee camp was just outside the wall's defenses with unhappy families crouched in front of tents or poking at fires not far away.

"Ah. So you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?" Morrigan crossed her arms and grinned down her nose at Alistair.

"Is my being upset so hard to understand? Have you never lost someone important to you?" Alistair turned on her, hurt and annoyed, "Just what would you do if your mother died?"

"Before or after I stopped laughing?" her mood didn't change, but her stance relaxed.

"Right Very creepy. Forget I asked."

"Leave him alone, Morrigan." Darrian said voice low.

She turned to him and mocked, "But how can I? He is right there, speaking, eyes wide like those of a brainless calf."

"Oh, I get it." Alistair recovered to mock back, "This is the part where we're shocked to discover how you've never had a friend your entire life."

"I can be friendly when I desire to. Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so."

Darrian shook his head, was he to be a peacemaker now? "That's not-"

"Anyway..." Alistair interrupted in him in his rush to change the subject, "I thought we should talk about where we intend to go, first."

Darrian finished his thought to Morrigan, "It's not the same thing." before returning to Alistair, "I need food and drink before I can start working on that."

"But we need to decide what our general plan is, don't we?"

Darrian waved off the subject, "Drink first Alistair then talk."

He led the way into the village proper. Down the ramp and through the gates and more of town opened to their eyes. There was one building other than the Chantry that was more than one story high. It was deep into the village, over a stone bridge that crossed a small creek. It also had a tile over its door. Darrian figured that that was the tavern and headed straight for it. Taverns meant food, drink, and news and Darrian was in need of all three.

It was strangely quiet for a tavern. Every chair and stool was full and several people were left to stand or lean against the wall, but few were chatting and those that did were quiet about it. Everyone else was grimly silent. When the Wardens entered a handful of men in well-kept armor and swords on their backs these even wearing helmets, stood and gathered to meet them before they got very far.

"Well, look what we have here, men. I think we've just been blessed." the lead man growled. He wore no helmet but was in good scale armor.

"Uh-oh." Alistair said low, "This can't be good."

"Makers Blood, more stab happy shems." Darrian muttered.

A second soldier stood next to his leader as he moved to stare Alistair down, "Didn't we spend all morning asking about a pair by this very description? And everyone said they hadn't seen them?"

"It seems we were lied to." the first sneered.

"We just got here." Darrian grinned mirthlessly.

"Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble." A Chantry Sister with short straight red hair and a pronounced Orlesian accent tried to place herself between the two groups, "These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge."

"They're more than that. Now stay out of our way, Sister. You protect these traitors, you'll get the same as them." the first man growled.

"Don't worry Sister, We can handle this." Darrian flexed his fingers, ready to reach for his weapon again.

She turned to him, "You don't need my protection. But these men will blindly follow their master's command even unto death."

"I am not the blind one! I served at Ostagar, where the Teyrn saved us from the Grey Wardens' treachery! I serve him gladly!" the first man shouted, "Enough talk. Take the Warden into custody. Kill the sister and anyone else that gets in your way."

Loghain's men reached for their weapons, but Darrian was fast. As he pulled his sword to fight Darrian brought the pommel down on the first man's head with a crack and the man stumbled back and fell. He concentrated his efforts on the man to his left as Alistair fought with another on the right. The Sister had pulled a dagger and was engaged with yet another further back. Darrian figured that Morrigan had the last man immobilized somehow.

The Sister managed a punch to the throat on her man and he fell. Darrian bashed his guy with his shield hard enough for him to stumble back and trip on the gasping man behind him. Equally, Alistair had his opponent up against the bar when the first stood and threw down his sword and shield.

"All right, you've won! We surrender!"

The sister sheathed her dagger, "Good. They've learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting now." she looked pointedly at Darrian.

"They were going to kill us!" Darrian shouted, "Their leader wants us dead!"

"They have surrendered!" the Sister urged, "They were no match for you! Let them be!"

"They were going to kill you, a Chantry Sister, for _talking_ to them." Darrian emphasized.

"But they failed, and I do not wish death on anyone."

Darrian gave a short growl, "… Drop your weapons and get out. Now!"

"Y-yes... thank you! Thank you!" Loghain's men limped quickly out the door.

"I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help." The sister smiled pleasantly, "Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was."

"Darrian, that's Alistair, she's Morrigan."

"They said you were a Grey Warden." she studied him, "I'm surprised you're an elf, but elves must want the Blight defeated as much as humans, no? I know after what happened, you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along."

"What?" Darrian paused as he hung his sword and shield on his back, "Why would a sister want to join the Grey Wardens now?"

"The Maker told me to."

"He... told you?" Darrian had had enough human nonsense today.

She lowered her head and looked at her clasped hands, "I-I know that sounds... absolutely insane, but it's true! I had a dream... a vision!" She raised her head to look into Darrians eyes as she insisted.

Alistair murmured, "More crazy? I thought we were all full up."

"Look at the people here." Leliana continued, "They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos... will spread. The Maker doesn't want this. What you do, what you are _meant_ to do, is the Maker's work. Let me help!"

"I don't think you'd be much help Sister." Darrian looked at the barkeep. He was standing off to one corner of the room, behind his counter, his arms crossed and watching them with a suspicious glare. He had an impressive mustache.

"I can fight." her words had a dark, heavy feel to them, "I can do more than fight-"

"Do you have armor?" Darrian interrupted, "Weapons? Money?"

Leliana faltered, "I... I donated all I had when I joined the Chantry."

"Sorry Sister, you dance well but I can't let you fight without protection and a proper weapon."

"But I..." she sighed, defeated, "I will go, for now."

She moved past them and left the tavern.

Darrian took a deep breath and headed over to the bar. He gave the barkeep a weak smile, "Sorry about the mess."

The barkeep looked from Alistair to Morrigan before focusing on him, "They had it coming, and they were trouble enough themselves. So long as you don't start more, I won't get excited. Right, then. Name's Danal. Sorry, I can't offer much... as you see, we've a full house."

"We just got up from Ostagar. What was that all about?"

"When Teyrn Loghain marched by, he left those fellows behind to look for Grey Wardens. A tall blonde man with a Templar shield and a red-haired elf in leafy armor. I suppose that's you?" he looked at them hard again.

"Did they say elf man?"

"Hadn't thought of that, matter of fact they didn't." The barman gave a quick grin, "I have no qualm with you, whatever the Teyrn says. My grandfather served. Your secret's safe with me."

"What was that he said about Treachery?" Alistair spoke for the first time.

"You haven't heard? The Teyrn said that the Grey Wardens betrayed the King, got them all killed along with him. He's put a bounty on any Grey Wardens."

"We would never do that!" Alistair piped up indignant at the accusation.

Darrian raised his hand to still Alistair and smiled at the barkeep, "Thanks for the heads up. How about some food or ale?"

"No luck on food. A merchant by the Chantry has some, but his prices are too high for me to pass on to my customers. I got some ale left."

"… If I get some food, would you cook it?" Darrian leaned in and gripped the counter.

"I guess I could do that."

"Great." Darrian patted the counter's surface, "Save a ale for me, I'll be right back with the food."


	21. Leaving Lothering

AN: I'm trying this new thing just as a lite reminder of what has occurred in the story. Not a total recap just a gentle reminder. Let me know what you think. Also characters current Bio can be found on my profile page, new info in bold.

Last time: The surviving Grey Wardens arrived at Lothering. Anna was grievously wounded at Ostagar, ala Bilbo, and encountered a spirit that reminded her name "Th'iareil". King Cailan was also grievously wounded and his consciousness was placed in ancient phylactery.

 **Leaving Lothering**

Th'iariel felt dull. They had not paused as they moved through the lands north of Ostagar. The risk of being discovered by the darkspawn was too high, and she had to get Cailan's body out of the elements as soon as possible. His untrained mind mumbled constantly as he struggled to get a grip on his current situation. Unable to take the main thoroughfare, she and Hunter had to muddle their way vaguely north until they were able to find a road which led naturally to the highway and to Lothering.

In exhaustion, she stumbled into Lothering. Her gore-soaked and ragged cloak enveloped her drooping form as it dragged on the ground around her. Clumpy strands and loops of blackened hair fell like a sick veil over her dirt-streaked face from under the deep hood. Next to her Hunter pulled his makeshift pallet bearing the bundled body of the not yet dead king.

She cast the Chantry a glare before turning north. They crossed the small stone bridge over the creek. Other refugees and townsfolk watched her pass but said nothing and did not approach.

"I think my current state of filth is keeping them away." she mumbled as she found a spot on the rocky bank near the bridge and unhitched Hunter from Cailans pallet.

"That may not be a good thing." Cailan expressed.

Hunter stretched, turned circles and lay down between the town and his charges. Th'iariel leaned against the bridge and closed her eyes slipping into a semiconscious doze.

"You really should check in with the Chantry-" Cailan began, he was silenced as a memory flashed to the surface of her mind.

"There are no elves." The creche Mother leaned down over her, dark wisps of short cut hair curling slightly around her cheeks, hands on her hips. Her dark eyes glittering like the sunburst on her Chantry robes in the light from the hearth fire, "They are evil creatures of magic and the maker killed them all millennia ago. You are a good normal human or a magical demon there is nothing else."

Th'iariel pushed the memory away.

"... What was that?"

"Nothing, I'm tired that's all."

"Was that a memory? _Your_ memory?" This was the first glimpse into her mind that Cailan had experienced and it was as if it was a memory of his own.

Th'iariel signed, "I was raised in a Chantry creche for children suspected of being mages. The Mother was convinced I was a demon or mage. I believe they were the same thing in her eyes."

"They told you there were no elves?"

"There weren't any in my creche. I don't know why. She insisted that I was human, she wanted me to say I was human. It makes sense _now_. I Knew I was Elvhen even then when I had no reason to think so."

"Aside from the ears."

Another dark flash.

"That means nothing!" the Mothers voice was shrill, "If they bother you so much I shall-"

Th'iariel removed the bauble, rejecting the memory with it, and placed it around Hunter's neck. She needed some time alone.

Darrian, Alistair, and Morrigan walked through the main thoroughfare of Lothering, heading to the fields and woods north of town. The last hour had been spent convincing a merchant to sell his food for reasonable prices so the tavern could afford to buy it, and getting work from the Chanters board to earn some coin.

"So..." Morrigan groused with false sweetness, "we have come to solve every squabble in the village personally? My, but the darkspawn will be impressed."

"We needed food and I got it." Darrian snapped, "We need money I'm getting it. Our reputation is bad and I'm improving it. All at the same time. Sometimes helping people is the smartest move Morrigan."

"Perhaps." She turned her head away, "I doubt that running errands in a small town soon to be wiped off the map will do much to sway public opinion. But, do as you please."

"Fewer bandits around is better in my opinion anyway." Darrian looked to the side as they approached the northern border of the town. Here there were no fortifications new or old, just fencing marking the end of town and the beginning of the fields. But off to the left of the road, just outside the fence, was a scaffolding of the sort that would support cages containing prisoners. Only one cage was there, resting on the ground instead of being suspended, and from it came a strange chanting.

Darrian allowed himself to investigate. The voice was deep and measured in its recitation. The man inside the cage was larger than any human Darrian had ever seen, with deep bronze skin and white hair braided close to the skull in rows running from his face back over his head. His ears appeared naturally pointed, but they looked more like the top of human ears had been removed instead of an addition of gentle curves that defined the elven point.

The giant stopped chanting when he sensed Darrian's approach, "You aren't one of my captors. I have nothing to say that would amuse you elf. Leave me in peace." he dismissed them with a wave of his massive hand.

"Are you really trapped in there?" The cage looked old and the man looked powerful. Darrian didn't think it would hold together if this man tried to get out.

"I am in a cage, am I not? I've been placed here by the Chantry." the man's tone turned from tired to proud, "I am Sten of the Beresaad, the vanguard of the Qunari peoples."

"Um, Darrian, of the Grey Wardens. It just doesn't seem that sturdy of a cage to me." Darrian studied the stoic face of the prisoner.

"You are a Grey Warden then?" Sten perked up slightly.

"Yeah, we are."

"Surprising." Sten returned to his former grave state as he studied them, "My people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens' strength and skill... though I suppose not every legend is true. I have been sentenced to death."

"So you're just staying in there waiting to die?"

"Yes."

"A penitent man left to be torn to pieces by darkspawn, 'tis a fine example of the Chantry's mercy, is it not?" Morrigan's caustic query caught Darrian's attention from Sten, "Could not the Grey Wardens, in the state you are, benefit from the addition of a powerful creature such as this?"

Darrian looked to Alistair, who shrugged, "We have no way to make him a Grey Warden. But we do need soldiers."

Sten considered this, his face implacable as always, "It seems as likely to bring my death as waiting here. I would prefer to die in battle. But my choices have been made."

"Right." Darrian didn't know what to say, "Well good luck with that. We've got bandits to kill."

The group turned from the caged man out to the apparently bandit-filled lands north of Lothering and left him to his chanting.

Alistair shook his head, "Left to be eaten Alive by darkspawn? That's cruel. I wonder why the revered mother is so afraid of him."

"What does it matter?" Morrigan argued, "Whatever he has done, 'tis obvious he is only in that cage because he allows it. That must speak to his control."

"Let's just get this hunt over with first." Darrian groused, "I don't like thinking on an empty stomach"

Th'iariel leaned back against the stone bridge. Her thick braid cushioned her head and the shield, under her cloak, was between her back and the stone, it's curve cradled her. She gripped the dagger's hilt as it lay across the chain shirt over her lap, half covered by the dirty cloak. It's deep stiff hood shaded her face and she listened to the sounds of the subdued village and babbling brook in a doze.

"Hello, there," A sweet, heavily accented voice jolted Th'iariel to consciousness, "Are you alright?"

Th'iariel gave the woman an acrid look from under her hood and remained silent. She was kneeling and leaning forward to bring her height closer to Th'iariel's. She wore a pleasant smile as her short straight red hair framed her cheeks, her hands were positioned demurely on her knees and she was wearing Chantry robes.

"You look like you could use some help."

"I'm fine." Th'iariel's voice was hoarse from disuse.

"Your clothes are black and they smell awful." the woman continued, unperturbed, "If you come to the Chantry-"

"I do not need the Chantry." Th'iariel sat up, the hood slipped back enough to reveal her scowling face and the markings on it.

"Oh!" the Sister's smile slipped into open surprise, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize... I understand your reluctance, but you are clearly in need of aid. At least let me help you get some clothes that aren't so..."

"Its blood." Th'iariel turned her scowl to her dress, "Mostly from darkspawn, I think, as when it gets wet it burns my skin."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" The sister's smile was back, "I'm Leliana, formerly of the Chantry. If you don't want charity from a Sister perhaps you would barter with a woman?"

"What do you want?" Th'iariel eyed her cautiously.

"I will find a new dress for you, and maybe a cloak, and you can give me that broken old chain shirt."

"That's not a fair trade." Th'iariel stood and removed her cloak so Leliana could see, "The armor is still fairly useful."

"It's true that the shirt is still in one piece... but you couldn't sell like that. Look, it is torn up to your waist in places and the corrosion..." Leliana shook her head sadly, "No it is in no state to sell."

Th'iariel gave the woman a hard look, "If you can find me clothes that aren't comically big, and a new cloak _and_ help me with my hair. I will trade."

Leliana looked at the elf maidens hair. When she had first seen the girl she had thought her hair was black. But now that the hood had fallen away she could see what must have been incredibly long vibrantly red hair wrapped in braids around her head. The worst of the blackened area had a solid shiny look to it.

"Um, I'm not sure how much can be saved." she said sympathetically, "I'm sorry, it must have taken years to grow."

Th'iariel nodded grimly, "It's... understood. I just need this gore off of me."

"I'll see what I can do." Leliana nodded and left her there to find supplies to trade.

She didn't need to go far, however. Just across the bridge, there was an elven family arranging their meager belongings. Leliana walked to them directly and began to talk in a quiet pleasant tone, that same smile on her face she had used on Th'iariel. She motioned to Th'iariel and the elves glanced at her sympathetically. Th'iariel whistled and held up a silver, she didn't need sympathy, she still had a bit of money left.

The elven woman nodded and she tossed the coin to them. The husband caught it and the woman produced a bundle from their meager belongings. Leliana thanked them and returned to Th'iariel.

"Apparently the bandits had taken all their goods and they were only able to get them back just now. Lucky for you. You know, merchants would be happy to take your money in return for goods." Leliana teased as she showed the garment to her.

"I'm... not use to that." she had traded with a merchant that supplied circle but her transactions had had to go through the circle. Th'iariel looked at the dress. It was plain and faded, similar to but not so merry in its embroidery as the elf maids dress had been. This was the dress of a wife and mother after all, functional and not unattractive but not eye-catching. She let herself smile, "This will do."

Leliana smiled, "Good. I still have to get you a cloak and find some scissors. I'll be right back."

She ran off over the bridge and toward the Chantry leaving Th'iariel and Hunter alone.

Th'iariel turned to Hunter, who was watching the whole interaction from his position next to the pallet with the Kings body on it, "I thought you were supposed to be guarding us?"

Hunter glanced at her, gave a jaw-cracking yawn and lay his massive head down again.

Darrian, Alistair, and Morrigan trudged back to town. The lands just north of Lothering were now much safer, and they had a bundle of weapons to prove their work.

Darrian couldn't help but glance as they passed the cage with the Qunari in it.

"Have you reconsidered?" Morrigan followed his gaze, "We could trade him for Alistair if you do not wish to leave the cage empty."

"He said he'd rather die in battle, but..." Darrian looked at Morrigan, "I don't know anything about Qunari. Do you?" At her silence, he turned toward the tavern and the others followed.

"They come from the north." Alistair volunteered, "They follow some godless religion, and they are excellent warriors. Apparently, warriors are the only ones allowed to leave their lands and interact with the rest of us, so it's likely he _can_ fight. If you trust him not to kill us."

"I don't think that cage could hold him if he really wanted to escape." Darrian mused. The innkeeper waved to them and motioned them to a table. The people who were there stood to make room for them. Apparently, word had gotten around that they were responsible for the tavern having food again.

"Your stew is ready, I'll warn you, it's thin." the barkeep warned as he placed a bowl and an ale in front of each of them, "We've a lot of people to feed. But I made sure _you_ got some meat."

"Right, so we have food and ale." Alistair looked expectantly at Darrian, "Have you looked at the treaties?"

"Not really." Darrian said between bites.

"There are three main groups that we have treaties for the Dalish elves, the dwarves of Orzammar, and the Circle of Magi." Alistair explained. Apparently, he _had_ read the treaties, "I also still think that Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. We might even want to go to him first."

Darrian considered his soup, he wasn't keen on telling Alistair he didn't know where these places were, "The clan I had stayed with was up north and _leaving_ Fereldan."

"There are other clans in Fereldan." Alistair assured, "The Brecilician Forest is said to have one wandering the area."

Leliana hurried past their table heading to the back rooms with a child in a dirty cloak.

"I've been thinking about that Leliana." Alistair fiddled with his mug, "Her plea seems wholehearted and even though she seems a little... strange. She does have skill. I vote to let her come along."

"A _bit_ strange?" Darrian lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Yes," Alistair admitted, "but she seems more... "ooh, pretty colors!" than "Muahaha! I am Princess Stabbity! Stab, kill, kill!""

"A "Princess Stabbity" may be of more use to you in battle than one who stands around admiring the "colors"." Morrigan's expression mirrored Darrians.

"Right," Darrian looked between them, "We have some money and weapons we haven't sold yet. Alistair, we'll give Leliana a chance, Morrigan, I'll see what we can do about the Qunari... It'll be hard getting armor that fits him."

"We could give him that big guy's sword?" Alistair referred to a bandit they killed for the Chantry board money, "it wasn't too damaged. That was impressive by the way, beheading him like that. He was taller than me."

"I'm used to being shorter then the humans I fight. Not all of us get the benefits of a temple diet."

"...I-I didn't mean-"

"I wasn't serious Alistair." Darrian frowned at his empty mug, "You _are_ a Templar right? I mean you... read as one, and you carry the shield."

"I read as a Templar?"

"The way you talked to Morrigan and her mother." Darrian said, "How you insist apostates are _illegal_."

"I never took the vows." Alistair watched Darrian as he explained, and noticed that he wasn't looking at him, "I was in training to be a Templar when Duncan recruited me. Is… that a problem?"

Darrian shrugged, "I don't have a problem with Templars. No magic in my family... My mother was arrested by them once." he hadn't looked away from the food in front of him, "She was a thief, she stole something they wanted back." he looked at Morrigan to address her, "What do you think Morrigan? What should we do first?"

"Go after your enemy directly. Find this man, Loghain, and kill him." She spoke matter of factly, confident in her conclusion, "The rest of this business with treaties can then be done in safety."

"Yes," Alistair mocked, "he certainly wouldn't see that coming. And it's not like he has the advantage of an _army_ and _experience_ and-"

"I was asked for my opinion and I gave it." Morrigan bit back, "If your wish is to come up with reasons why something cannot be done, we will sit here until the darkspawn are upon us."

"Of course! It's _far_ better to run blindly into a fight than to consider-"

"Enough." Darrian pounded his fist on the table and looked at it as he thought out loud, "... We are Grey Wardens in a blight. We have been accused by Loghain, a hero, of killing the King. Killing Loghain would make us look guilty and turn people against us... like nobles... and they control the roads and armies. Besides, he's not our main problem, the blight is. He's just in our way. We need to get some humans- nobles, on our side if we hope to move our own army through Fereldan without push back. There will be time for justice, Alistair, once we're safe."

Darrian took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He gave Alistair a measuring look, "Are you sure Arl Eamon will see us?"

"I know him. He..." Alistair released the sentence reluctantly, "raised me."

"He raised you?" Darrian pressed.

"Let's see. How do I explain this? I'm a bastard." Alistair started with false lightness, "And before you make any smart comments, I mean the _fatherless_ kind. My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle who died when I was very young. Arl Eamon wasn't my father, but he took me in anyhow and put a roof over my head."

"You sure he's not your father? Cause I've heard this story before, and -"

"Yes, I'm quite sure." Alistair interrupted flatly, "At any rate, I don't look anything like him... you'll see for yourself. Not that it stopped the rumors any. That was why he sent me off to the Chantry, eventually. The new Arlessa resented them... the rumors not the Chantry. I wasn't raised as the Arls son, or anything. I slept in hay out in the stables, not on silk sheets."

Once it looked like Alistair was done volunteering information Darrian asked, "How far is Redcliffe?"

"A few days travel on foot."

"We'll visit him first, try to get the hu- nobles on our side." Darrian leaned back, having finished his meal.

Leliana appeared at their table, now wearing a ragged chain shirt over her Chantry robes.

"I have armor!" She beamed, "Well, sort of."

"Congratulations." Darrian gave her a small smile, "Welcome to the... group."

"Thank you! I won't let you down, I promise!"

Alistair offered her the unwieldy bundle of weapons they had confiscated from the bandits.

"Mr. Tabris?" The hesitant voice came from under the hood of a faded blue spring cloak far too large for the girl underneath. Darrian was stunned to hear and see the elf mage he had met at Ostagar, Moreso, because she had somehow had her face tattooed like a Dalish between then and now. But it had to be her, those where her eyes.

"That's the Warden recruit I met at Ostagar" Cailan was back in his position on Th'iariel's neck, "I sent him and Alistair to light the signal fire. I'm glad they survived."

"It _is_ you." she continued, "My name is Th'iariel, _remember_? Th'iariel Adulin. We met at Ostagar."

"What... I remember. What happened to you, Th'iariel?" He asked, she looked so small in her oversized cloak, she was pale and had dark circles under her wide plaintive eyes. He made note of her name change, apparently, she was using Ostagar to go apostate.

"Ostagar... I am glad you survived. It seemed as if I might have been the only one." she smiled shyly. She was just so relieved to see a familiar face.

"Yeah, … Here, sit." Darrian offered her his seat and ordered a bowl of stew for her, " You... lookin' for the Dalish?"

Th'iariel shook her head, "I'm traveling to Redcliffe, I have business there."

"We're going to Redcliffe." Darrian watched as she received her soup and started eating like she hadn't in a while, "We... could take you there."

Leliana looked up from the bow she was inspecting.

"Maybe you're too tall." Alistair grinned at her, "Or your ears aren't pointy enough."

"That's not-" Darrian floundered, "She didn't ask to join us in our fight. She was at Ostagar. We're going to the same place. It's -"

"It's alright Darrian," Leliana teased with a smile, "You don't have to explain it to me."

"I would appreciate the help. And the company." Th'iariel looked at them through her eyelashes, "I am Th'iariel Adulin. A pleasure to meet all of you."

"You were at Ostagar, Teeareil? Oh, sorry I'm Alistair, a pleasure."

"Yes." Th'iariel looked back to her food, ignoring his outstretched hand, "It's Th'iariel. Soft T ee ah soft roll on the r ee el."

"Soft t?" Alistair lowered his hand.

"The poor girl was covered with darkspawn blood." Leliana cooed, "I had to cut it out of her hair. Such a shame."

"And I am Morrigan," She leaned in to view the newcomer.

"Oh, right sorry." Darrian rubbed his neck, "Well, we all know each other now right? Leliana, do you need food or are you ready for a mission?"

"I have already eaten today."

"Good, then you can come with me and Alistair to the Chantry. We're going to try to get that Qunari released to the Grey Wardens."

"The Revered Mother said he slaughtered an entire family. Even the children." Leliana said somberly, "He has been in that cage for nearly a month."

"I still say he will be of use to us." Morrigan insisted, "Whatever occurred then, he appears sane now."

"We'll get him, if we can." Darrian nodded, "You should take Th'iariel to him and wait for us there. We'll head out of town right after, I want to be long gone by sundown."

Darrian, Alistair, and Leliana left Morrigan and Th'iariel at the tavern door to the Chantry to accept their bounty from the chanters board and meet with the Revered Mother. Th'iariel glanced at Morrigan and started to walk toward the bridge and Hunter.

"I have some things to collect."

Morrigan followed her. This Th'iariel was odd, something felt off about her but Morrigan couldn't quite tell what. The way she had greeted Darrian was odd. And for a Dalish she had nothing of her people about her, neither accouterments nor behavior, "I find myself wondering why a Dalish elf is sticking so close to human lands?"

"I have a name Morrigan." Th'iariel didn't bother to look at her, "I am here because of a promise I made."

They had reached her camp. Hunter stood, shook off his nap and padded over to smell Morrigan.

"That is Morrigan, Hunter. We will be traveling together." Th'iariel motioned him back to the pallet, "We are leaving soon."

"So we have a dog now?" Morrigan moaned, "Wonderful. Are those by any chance supplies?"

"No, it is a promise." Th'iariel spoke deliberately.

Hunter obediently allowed the harness to be reattached and followed Th'iariel as Morrigan led the way to the meeting spot.

Sten stopped chanting as they approached.

"The Grey Wardens have decided that you could be useful to them." Morrigan announced, "They are negotiating your release with the Revered Mother now. We are to meet them here."

Cailan communicated again, "Is that a... Qunari?"

"A Qunari?" Th'iariel echoed, looking up at the giant, the tallest, largest person she had ever seen.

"You know of my people elf?"

"I have only heard that you're big, powerful warriors and oddly compelling, apparently." She answered, "So not really, no."

He observed the women in stony silence.

"So," Morrigan feigned boredom after few moments had passed, "What were you doing at Ostagar?" Morrigan asked after a few moments passed.

Th'iariel thought for a moment, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Really?" Morrigan mused, "I wonder what the alternatives were that going toward the darkspawn hoard was the "good idea"."

"I wonder how you stay warm in that top, Morrigan." Th'iariel put a smile on, "But I expect the answer is either too short to entertain or too long for the time we have before the others return."

Eventually, the others did return and Darrian stepped forward with the key in hand.

"The Chantry has agreed to release you into the custody of the Grey Wardens with the understanding that you will join us in our fight against the Blight." He tried to sound official.

"So be it." Sten looked at the group he was joining, "Set me free, and I will follow you against the Blight."

While Darrian asked after Sten's welfare and they conversed over weapon preference, Alistair noticed the change in the group.

"Is that our mabari?" He asked, then added excited, "We have a cart?"

"The mabari is Hunter," Th'iariel explained, "and it's not a cart, it's a pallet, and a makeshift one. It would need wheels to be a cart."

"Still, we can use it to haul things right?" Alistair shifted this pack meaningfully.

"I'm not overburdening Hunter-" she turned to Hunter when he "oofed", "you stay out of this! If it was a cart, maybe, but my cargo is fragile, relatively speaking, and moreover so is that pallet. You can't just pile things on top of it."

"It won't do to start out obstreperous." Cailan advised, "I don't mind sharing my transport with food."

Th'iariel looked from the wrapped body of Cailan to Hunter, then examined the way he was tied to the pallet.

"I suppose it could carry a little more." Th'iariel relented, then added timidly, "I should be the one arranging things. I don't want Hunter to get nervous."

"No one wants a nervous mabari." Alistair agreed, grinning.

They paused for a while just outside the towns northern border to arrange supplies between the pallet and the rest the group.

"We done heard what was said." the rough voice of a peasant spoke behind them, "You're a Warden."

The group refocused from their task to find eight refugees with makeshift weapons surrounding them.

"I don't know if you killed King Cailan, and Maker forgive me, I don't care." The man continued, "But that bounty could feed a lot of hungry bellies."

Th'iariel raised her left hand to her face, palm out, holding only her first two fingers straight as the man spoke. When he cried "Attack!" she dragged her hand across her eyes and they fell to the ground, deeply asleep.

"What, was that?" Alistair moved to examine one of the men, "huh, they're asleep."

"We should go before they wake up and we have to do something." Darrian looked around to see if anyone had seen what happened, but the road was empty. The group left quickly after that, taking the highway towards Redcliffe.


End file.
